The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, and I made one promise to myself: ignore Woo-jin at all costs.
No matter how much he talked, teased, or flashed that smug grin, I wouldn't budge. After last night—where he provoked me to help him with his heat.
I got dressed in silence, brushing past him in the kitchen without a word. He was already there, his pink hair a little messy, wearing one of those lazy t-shirts that hung off his shoulders like he had no shame. Normally, he'd be buzzing around me like an insect, but this time, he just sat at the table, chin resting on his palm, watching.
Every move I made—the buttering of my toast, the sip of coffee, the quiet clink of cutlery—he tracked like a hawk.
And I ignored him.
At least, until he let out a loud, pathetic groan.
"Baaabe… you're ignoring me…"
I didn't move a muscle, toast halfway to my mouth. Not this. Not today.
So I ate the toast. Quietly. Pretending I didn't hear him.
Another whimper. This time louder, and accompanied by him sliding dramatically down his chair, hand clutching at his chest like he was in a tragedy play.
"My husband doesn't love me anymore. My heart—it hurts! I might die any second." He placed his hand on his chest. " My heart is hurting…I'm dying…."
I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they'd get stuck. "Then die quietly."
He gasped like I'd stabbed him. "You're so cruel! You won't even shed a tear when I'm gone, will you?"
"Correct," I muttered, finishing my coffee.
But Woo-jin didn't stop. He rubbed at his eyes like a child, fake sniffling echoing through the apartment. Then, before I could escape, he crawled over—literally crawled—and grabbed onto the hem of my pants.
I froze. "…What are you doing?"
"Don't gooo," he whined, voice muffled against my leg. "If you leave me, I'll cry for real this time."
"You're an actor. You cry for money."
"But this is different!" he argued, hugging my calf now. "This is true heartbreak. Do you even care that your husband is suffering?"
I stared down at him, dumbfounded. This man. This twenty-two-year-old award-winning actor. On the floor. Clinging to my leg like a toddler at daycare.
"You're pathetic," I muttered, trying to shake him off.
He only grinned through his fake tears. "Pathetically in love with you."
I managed to drag myself out of the apartment, but Woo-jin wasn't finished. Oh no—he followed me.
I strode down the street toward the bus stop, ignoring the stares people were already giving us, but Woo-jin trotted behind like a puppy. Then he upped the volume.
"Honeybear, wait for me!" he shouted.
Every head turned. My soul left my body.
"Don't call me that in public!" I hissed, spinning on him.
He gasped loudly, clutching his chest again like I'd broken his heart in front of the entire neighborhood. "You don't want people to know we're married? You're ashamed of me?"
Gasps. Whispers. People staring like I was the villain in some scandal drama.
I wanted the ground to open in half and fall.
Woo-jin, of course, looked delighted by my misery. He jogged forward and slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me flush against his side.
"Don't mind him, everyone. He's just shy. But we're very much in love."
I tried to shove him away, but he only tightened his grip, beaming at the bystanders like a man showing off his prized possession.
"You're impossible," I muttered through clenched teeth.
"And you're cute when you pout," he whispered back, lips brushing dangerously close to my ear. Then he licked my ears. I shoved him off the floor
The crowd was suddenly loud. Someone even clapped. And Woo-jin? He looked like he'd just won a medal.
Woo-jin's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, face softening into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Work," he sighed dramatically, like it was the greatest tragedy. "Duty calls."
"Good," I snapped. "Go ruin someone else's day for a change."
He pouted, reaching out to pinch my cheek before I could dodge. "You'll miss me."
"In your dreams."
"Exactly," he said.
He got up and grabbed my hair. Before I could react he kissed me and winked at me before strutting off like some runway model, leaving whispers and giggles behind him.
I groaned. Finally, Peace.
Or so I thought.
Hours later.
I was at my desk, lost in paperwork, when the atmosphere of the office suddenly shifted. I didn't even have to look up—I felt it. A ripple of whispers. Stifled squeals. The kind of chaos that only one man could cause.
I dared to lift my head.
There he was. Kang Woo-jin. In my office. In a perfectly tailored black suit, hair styled effortlessly, looking like he'd just stepped out of a photoshoot.
And worse—he was smiling right at me.
"Found you," he said, his voice carrying across the room like velvet.
My stomach dropped. "No. No, no, no—why are you here?"
He ignored my question entirely, walking straight to my desk, every step confident. My coworkers all but melted, whispering furiously.
"Isn't that Kang Woo-jin?!"
"He's even hotter in person…"
"Wait, why is he—oh my gosh, is he—"
I slammed my files shut, glaring up at him. "You can't just barge in here. This is my workplace!"
He leaned down, bracing a hand on my desk, his face infuriatingly close. "Why not? You're my husband. I missed you."
Gasps. Actual gasps erupted around us.
I shot to my feet, dragging him toward the hallway before he could humiliate me further. "Have you lost your damn mind?!"
Woo-jin only laughed, following easily as I pulled him. "Pretty much, yeah. Lost it the day I married you."
"You—!" I stopped myself, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Do you enjoy making a scene?"
He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Hmm… yes. But only if you're in it."
I groaned. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," he whispered, eyes glinting with mischief, "you haven't divorced me."
That shut me up for a second too long. He smirked, knowing he'd scored a point.
"Go home, Woo-jin."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough for only me to hear. "Not until you promise to have dinner with me tonight."
"What—? Absolutely not."
"Then I'll just sit in your office and charm all your coworkers until they beg you to give in."
I gaped at him. "You wouldn't dare."
His smirk widened. "Try me, honeybear."
I wanted to scream.
I thought threatening him would work. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I ignored him hard enough, he'd get bored and leave.
But Woo-jin wasn't Woo-jin if he knew the meaning of "leave."
He strode right back into the main office like he owned the place– maybe he did since it's mine, loosening his tie a little and flashing that practiced movie-star smile.
"Hello, everyone," he said warmly, loud enough for the entire floor to hear. "I hope you don't mind me dropping by. I was feeling lonely without my husband."
My blood froze.
"H-husband?" one of my coworkers squeaked.
Woo-jin beamed. "Yes. This one." He grabbed my hand and held it up proudly, like a trophy. "Isn't he the cutest?"
The room erupted. Some gasped, others whispered furiously, and a few just stared at me like I'd been hiding state secrets.
I yanked my hand free, face burning. "Woo-jin, stop it!"
He clutched his chest like I'd shot him. "Stop what? Telling the truth? Or showing the world how much I adore you?"
"You're humiliating me!" I hissed, trying to drag him away again.
He dug his heels in, raising his voice even more. "Humiliating you? Darling, I'm celebrating you!" He turned to the room. "Do you all know how hard he works? He stays up late, skips meals, and never takes care of himself. Honestly, I should be scolding him, not you all."
Laughter rippled through the office. The director peeked out from their office, eyebrows raised. I wanted to disappear in thin air.
"Woo-jin!" I snapped. "Get out before I lose my mind!"
He looked at me then, his smile softening just enough to sting. "Why? Don't you like it when people know you're mine?"
That was it. That was the final straw.
I shoved him hard in the chest, my voice shaking with fury. "I'm not yours, Woo-jin! Stop acting like you own me!"
The room went silent. Every eye was on us. Woo-jin blinked, momentarily stunned, then his lips curved into a slow, dangerous grin.
"Oh, you'll regret saying that out loud, honeybear," he murmured, voice low enough for only me to hear—but his pheromones spiked, faint roses drifting into the air, and I knew everyone could feel the tension even if they couldn't name it.
I clenched my fists, glaring at him through the burn in my chest. "Get. Out."
For once, he actually obeyed. He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirk still tugging at his mouth. "Fine. I'll leave."
But just before he turned toward the door, he leaned in close, brushing his lips against my ear so no one else could hear.
"You'll come running after me. You always do."
Then he was gone—leaving my workplace buzzing like a kicked beehive and me trembling with rage I couldn't shake.