I used to know him.
Tae. The boy who shared ice cream with me, wiped my tears when I scraped my knee, swore we'd always be besties. Forever.
Fast forward 15 years… and he's a mafia boss. Like, the kind of guy whose name makes people pee their pants.
And me? Forced to marry him. Yeah. Life's sense of humor is… spectacular.
Okay, so apparently, weddings aren't fairy tales. Who knew? The first "plot twist" hit me in the face the second I saw the door: locked. From the outside. Yep.
Someone actually thought they could cage me. Cute.
I tugged at the dress—honestly, whoever designed this thing clearly hated women. Layer upon layer of suffocating silk. Honestly, the only thing missing was a tiny "let's ruin her life" tag stitched in the back.
My brain kicked into full "escape mode." Window. Obviously. The breeze was whispering, "Come on, hero, be dramatic." And yes, I wanted to be dramatic. A little chaos never hurt anyone.
Then—footsteps. Heavy. Predator vibes: 100%.
"Going somewhere?"
I froze. Tae. My… husband. The guy whose name apparently makes accountants cry and gangsters pray. The man who looked calm enough to slice your soul and smile while doing it.
I smiled anyway. "Just… checking the view," I said, trying to sound casual. Totally failed. My heartbeat was screaming "RUN, RUN, RUN."
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stood there like some dark cloud ready to rain on my entire vibe. And at that exact second, I realized something: escaping wasn't the flex here. Surviving him? That's the real game.
Wedding happened. People clapped. I smiled. Tae looked like he already owned the entire room—and maybe me too. Joke's on him. He had no idea he'd just married a literal ticking bomb.
Pro tip: storms are not predictable. And I? I'm the storm..