The flashbulbs felt like gunshots.
Even though Soojin wasn't the one standing before them, she could feel the sting all the way from her quiet apartment. The headlines were everywhere—her phone buzzed like it had caught fire, notification after notification lighting up the dark living room. She sat curled into the corner of her couch, the velvet cushion pressing into her back as she stared at the glowing screen.
Breaking News: Jae Kang's Mystery Nights in Seoul — Who's the Lucky Woman?
Her heart stuttered. Her hand trembled so badly that she almost dropped the phone. It wasn't just one tabloid—every outlet was running the same story, each with its own twist. Photos of Jae Kang leaving his luxury penthouse at midnight. Blurred, grainy shots of him climbing into a black car. The suggestion that someone—some woman—was waiting for him in secret.
Soojin swallowed hard. That someone was me.
Only no one could ever know.
The author of the article was none other than Veronica Seo. The woman had a reputation for smelling blood where others only saw water. She was relentless, feeding on the smallest scraps of rumor until she tore reputations apart. If Veronica had gotten this close, if she'd already seen patterns in Jae's movements… then their carefully constructed world was seconds away from shattering.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't an article. It was a message.
From Clara Kwon:
> Don't go online. Don't say a word. Come to the company tomorrow at 9.
Soojin let the device slip from her hand onto the couch cushion. Her vision blurred with hot tears. Clara knew. Or at least, Clara suspected. And if Clara suspected, the company would circle her like wolves, sniffing for weakness, ready to devour.
She pressed her palms against her temples, forcing herself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. She couldn't lose her composure now. This is what I signed up for, she told herself. This is the price of loving him.
But the truth was, her chest hurt so much she felt like she might collapse.
---
Midnight Confession
The door lock clicked. Her breath caught. She hadn't expected him tonight—not with the storm brewing online—but there he was, slipping into the apartment with his cap pulled low and a mask still covering his face.
Jae Kang. Her husband.
Their eyes met across the dimly lit room. For a split second, there was no scandal, no company rules, no threat of discovery. Just him. The man who once knelt before her on a rainy rooftop, slipping a ring onto her trembling finger.
"Soojin…" His voice was low, urgent. He shut the door behind him and tossed his cap onto the counter. "You saw it, didn't you?"
Her silence was enough of an answer.
Jae crossed the room in three long strides, cupping her face with hands still cool from the night air. "Listen to me. This is nothing. Just noise. Don't let it scare you."
"Noise?" Her voice cracked, sharp with panic. "They're circling, Jae. Veronica Seo isn't just anyone. She'll dig and dig until she finds something. What if she finds… us?"
For a moment, his mask slipped—not the fabric one, but the one he wore as Jae Kang, global superstar, untouchable idol. Beneath it, he looked tired. Vulnerable. Afraid. But then he forced a smile, brushing his thumb across her cheek.
"She won't. I won't let her. You trust me, don't you?"
Soojin wanted to scream that trust wasn't the problem. That she was drowning in loneliness while he lived two lives. That every night she waited for the day their lie would implode and take her career—and her heart—with it.
But the words stuck in her throat. She only nodded, because that's what he needed from her. Because even now, with her heart aching, she couldn't bear to see him break.
---
The Weight of Silence
The next morning, the company building felt like a courthouse. Soojin walked through the glass doors with her head down, sunglasses shielding her eyes. Reporters swarmed outside, shouting questions she pretended not to hear. She wanted to scream, I'm not the mystery woman! I'm his wife! But the gag order on her soul kept her lips sealed.
Inside, Clara Kwon waited, arms crossed like a judge delivering sentence.
"Do you know why you're here?" Clara asked, her tone clipped, eyes like knives.
Soojin clenched her fists at her sides. "The article."
"Yes. The article." Clara paced the room, heels striking the floor like a metronome of doom. "Veronica Seo thinks Jae Kang has a secret lover. That story is spreading faster than wildfire. And you—" Clara's gaze narrowed, cutting into her—"happen to live suspiciously close to his penthouse."
Soojin's heart stopped. She knows.
"I— I don't—"
"Relax," Clara interrupted, waving a hand. "I don't think you're reckless enough to actually risk something like that. But people are watching. More carefully than ever. From now on, you will not be seen anywhere near Jae. Not in the same building, not in the same city if we can help it. Understood?"
The words were a blade twisting in her chest. To protect their secret, she had to disappear from him even more.
"Yes," Soojin whispered.
"Good." Clara leaned in, her perfume sharp, her tone even sharper. "One mistake, Soojin. One wrong move, and everything you've worked for is gone."
---
The Breaking Point
That night, Soojin stood on her balcony, the city buzzing below like an indifferent machine. Neon signs flickered, car horns wailed, laughter rose from the streets. Life went on, careless of her unraveling.
She thought about Jae. Was he pacing in his penthouse too? Was he thinking of her, or was he already rehearsing the next lie the company would feed the press?
Her phone buzzed again.
Breaking Update: Who Is Jae Kang's Mystery Woman? Rumors Point to Hollywood Starlet Evelyn Hart.
Soojin's blood went cold. Evelyn Hart—the darling of Hollywood, the woman the world adored. Beautiful, untouchable, golden. If the company fed this narrative, if Jae agreed to play along… what would that make Soojin?
A shadow. A ghost. A secret wife watching her husband be paired with someone else under the spotlight.
Her knees buckled. She gripped the railing, the city spinning below her. For the first time in two years, Soojin wondered if love was enough. If her heart could survive this lie.
The paparazzi flash was everywhere, burning holes into her quiet little life. And she had no shield, no voice, no escape.
Only silence.
Only him.
And the terrifying possibility that, for the sake of their careers, silence would one day erase her completely.