Today I rented an apartment which I have to share with that omega who acts so innocent.
Correction — pretends to act innocent.
Kang Woo-jin. My so-called husband. The dominant omega I was forced to marry because our families wanted a "powerful union." I call it a disaster dressed in formalwear.
I hate omegas. I've hated them ever since—
…No. I don't need to think about that now. Not when Woo-jin is humming like this is a honeymoon.
He stepped in right behind me, not carrying a single bag — typical — while I hauled both our suitcases up three flights of stairs. "This is cozy," he said, spinning slowly like he'd just walked into paradise. "You really picked this out for me?"
"For us," I muttered, dumping the bags with a loud thud. "And no. I picked it because it's quiet. No nosy neighbors. No reporters. No family barging in."
Woo-jin's lips curled. "A secret love nest? How thoughtful."
I shot him a glare. "This isn't love. This is a contract. Don't overestimate yourself."
He just grinned wider — the infuriating kind of grin that says I already know how to get under your skin. "Guess I'll just have to make you fall for me anyway, honey bear."
"That will never happen."
I strode into the master bedroom, pleased with myself. Minimalist. Neutral walls. A bed big enough to keep a person as far away as possible. I'd put serious thought into making it scent-neutral — no flowers, no candles, nothing soft or romantic.
Woo-jin followed me in, of course. Like a shadow I couldn't shake.
"This room's perfect," he said, bouncing onto my bed without permission. "Plenty of space for two."
"Get off."
He lay back on his elbows, lazy and smug. "Make me."
My hands clenched. "Don't push me, Woo-jin."
"You really hate omegas that much?" His voice softened like he actually cared — but his eyes gleamed with challenge.
"Yes." The word came out sharper than I meant. Memories clawed at me — an omega I trusted once, fake tears, poisonous lies, the kind of betrayal you don't forget. I forced the thought down. "Especially ones like you."
"Ouch," he murmured, not hurt at all. "Guess I'll just have to prove you wrong."
"Good luck. You'll fail."
"We'll see." He shifted deliberately, spreading out like he owned the bed. "This side's mine. Don't cross it unless you're planning to cuddle."
"I'm sleeping on the couch."
"I'm locking the bedroom door."
I spun to glare at him. "Try it and I'll break it."
He just smiled sweetly. "Can't wait to see you try, honeybear"
By evening, I'd locked myself in the office to sort through work files — real problems that didn't wear smug smiles. But then I smelled it: garlic, sesame oil, something sizzling.
Woo-jin's voice floated down the hall. "Dinner's ready, darling!"
I walked into the kitchen warily. He was wearing an apron — my apron, which I'd bought purely for utility — and somehow making it look like a uniform of war.
He slid a plate across the table. "Sit. Eat. You look like someone surviving on anger alone."
"I do just fine without your help." But I sat anyway. My stomach betrayed me with a low growl.
Woo-jin leaned over, too close, as he set the chopsticks in front of me. "You're welcome."
The food was annoyingly good. Perfectly seasoned. Perfectly cooked. I hated that I liked it.
"You can scowl later," Woo-jin said cheerfully, sitting across from me. "Right now, you're going to thank your omega husband for feeding you."
I shot him a look. "You're not my husband. You're my problem."
He rested his chin on his hand, watching me eat. "Funny. I feel like I'm your solution."
"Solution to what?"
"To that giant stick up your—"
"Finish that sentence and I'll throw this plate."
Woo-jin only grinned wider. "You're cute when you're angry. No wonder they call you the cold alpha — you're afraid to burn too hot."
I set my chopsticks down. "Stop acting innocent. You're not fooling me."
"Good," he said smoothly, voice dropping an octave. "Because I'm not trying to be innocent. I'm trying to dominate you."
The air went still. My pulse spiked, more from rage than anything else. "Try it," I warned. "I dare you."
"Oh, I will." He leaned back, absolutely fearless. "This is only day one, Jung Dae-hyun. You'll be begging me to run this place before the week's out."
Later, I found him lounging on my bed again, wearing my shirt — unbuttoned halfway just to annoy me.
I stopped in the doorway. "Take that off."
He raised a brow. "The shirt or the attitude?"
"I'm not joking."
"Neither am I," he said lazily. "This shirt smells like you. I like it."
I crossed the room in two strides, ready to rip it off him — and that's when he grabbed my wrist, yanking me down with surprising strength. I ended up braced over him, our faces inches apart.
"See?" Woo-jin whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "You're already letting me lead."
"I'm not letting you do anything," I growled, shoving away hard. My heart was pounding — with anger. Only anger. "Keep pushing me, and you'll regret it."
Woo-jin just smiled lazily, stretching out on the bed like he owned it. "Goodnight, husband."
I slammed the door behind me and left.
"Good night, my axx." What a terrible day as newlyweds.
I sat on the sofa shivering from the cold.
The room was quiet, but not the kind of quiet that feels safe—more like the hollow kind that made every creak of the house sound louder. I curled up on the sofa, knees to my chest, shivering despite the sweater I'd thrown on. Sleep crept up on me anyway, heavy and cold.
At some point in the night, there was warmth—soft, steady, unexpected. When my eyes fluttered open, a blanket was tucked around me snugly, carrying a faint trace of his cologne. And there he was—my husband, the man I swore I couldn't stand—fast asleep, leaning against me, his arm draped protectively over my shoulders as if it belonged there. His breathing was even, lips parted, completely unaware that the walls I'd built were cracking just watching him sleep.
He stirred immediately. "You're awake?" His voice was rough with sleep.
"What are you doing here?" My words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn't care.
"You were shivering." He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't want you to freeze."
"I didn't ask you to play hero," I snapped, throwing the blanket off me. "Don't pretend you care."
His gaze lingered on me, unreadable, almost amused. "Maybe I don't have to pretend."
I scoffed. "Stop trying to make me fall for whatever game this is."
"Game?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. "If it's a game, you're the only one playing."
I pushed past him, pulse pounding, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words unsettled me.