The lights burned so brightly that for a moment Soojin thought she might dissolve into them—become nothing but glitter and gold, the perfect image the cameras wanted her to be. The award stage gleamed like a jewel box, the red carpet stretched behind her like a vein pulsing with fame, and every flashbulb seemed to etch her smile deeper into the world's memory.
She held the golden statuette close to her chest as the audience roared.
"Best Actress of the Year."
Her name thundered through the auditorium, carried on the host's voice, echoed in banners, screamed by her fans. Han Soojin. Goddess of the screen. The woman who could play any role.
Tonight, she was playing her favorite: the untouchable star.
Her sequined gown clung to her body like liquid fire. Her smile was polished perfection, teeth glinting as if cut from diamonds. She bowed slightly, graceful, poised, every movement rehearsed. But her eyes, trained on the first row of the audience, betrayed the faintest flicker of something raw.
Because he was there.
Jae Kang.
The nation's golden boy. Korea's most bankable male lead. Actor. Singer. Brand ambassador. He sat in the front row, draped in a tailored suit that caught the light in midnight-blue threads. His smile was soft, casual, the kind a man gave when genuinely proud of a colleague. To the cameras, he was a friend. A rival. A star admiring another star.
But Soojin felt the weight of his gaze like fire pressed against her skin.
Because to her, he was something else.
Her husband.
A secret only they knew.
---
"Thank you…" Her voice rang through the microphone, smooth but trembling just enough to seem humble. "I never imagined I'd stand here tonight. This is for the directors who believed in me, for the fans who never gave up on me…"
The crowd roared. Cameras clicked. Somewhere, a fan screamed her name so loudly the security guards had to hush her.
"…and for those who remind me to stay human, even in a world that demands perfection."
Her eyes flickered down. Just a millisecond. Only he caught it.
Jae Kang's lips curved almost imperceptibly, as though she'd brushed a hand against his cheek in public. The smallest acknowledgment. Their secret language.
---
Later, the afterparty glimmered with champagne and noise. Laughter spilled from every corner, executives bragged about future deals, reporters stalked like wolves waiting for a slip. Soojin floated between groups, dazzling, untouchable.
But the second she stepped into the dim hallway leading to the VIP lounge, her façade cracked.
A hand slid across her waist. Firm. Familiar.
She turned, heartbeat racing.
Jae Kang.
"Congratulations," he murmured, his voice so low no one else could hear. His face, so calm on stage, now brimmed with something sharper—pride, hunger, longing. "You killed it out there."
She laughed softly, though her chest ached with the tension of holding back. "I almost looked at you too long. Did you see?"
"You did," he said, eyes narrowing with teasing danger. "But no one noticed."
Her breath shivered as his thumb brushed against her side before he pulled away, leaving her colder than before. "Two years," she whispered, almost bitter. "Two years of pretending we're strangers."
His jaw tightened. "It's the price we pay. You know the industry would eat us alive if they found out."
She did know.
Fans believed in fantasies—the perfect idol, the single star who belonged only to them. Executives saw marriage as poison, something that drained marketability and killed desire. If news broke, they wouldn't just be criticized; they'd be ruined.
But still…
"Sometimes I wonder," she said softly, staring at the shadows on the wall, "if we're protecting our love—or killing it."
---
That night, when the world thought she was at home celebrating with champagne and friends, Soojin slipped into a black van that drove three neighborhoods away. A plain building. No flashing lights. No paparazzi.
And inside—warmth.
Their apartment. Their real life.
She stepped out of her heels, letting them clatter against the floor. The gown slid from her body, leaving her in nothing but exhaustion and skin. And when she finally looked up, he was there, watching her not as a co-star, not as a public image, but as his wife.
"Come here," Jae Kang said, his voice stripped of all the glamour.
She crossed the room without hesitation and melted into his arms.
For two years, this was their truth: stolen nights, whispered jokes, burnt toast in the mornings, fights about laundry, kisses that tasted like salvation.
Two years of living a perfect lie in the day, and their truest selves in the dark.
But as Soojin closed her eyes against his chest that night, holding her golden award between them like both a trophy and a curse, a cold whisper crept through her heart.
How much longer could they keep this secret?
And when the truth finally came out—because secrets always did—what would it cost them?