The next morning, I woke up with swollen eyes and a strange sense of peace.
Maybe it was because I cried so much last night that there were simply no tears left to cry.
Or maybe… maybe I just didn't care anymore.
I got ready like usual — makeup, hair, shirt tucked into my jeans — but something in me felt lighter.
A little emptier too.
When I left my room, I found my mother passed out on the sofa, surrounded by empty bottles like they were her loyal soldiers guarding a broken queen.
I sighed softly and grabbed a blanket, covering her shoulders. "Good night, Mom," I whispered, even though the sun was already up.
Then I quietly left.
Outside, someone was waiting for me.
Of course.
Yichen.
That annoying, emotionless robot in human skin.
He was standing beside his car, hands in pockets, eyes fixed on me like I was a schedule he couldn't cancel. For once, he actually stepped away from his precious luxury vehicle and walked toward me.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
His voice was flat — so flat that I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, serious, or if his circuits had finally short-circuited overnight.
I studied his face. That perfectly neutral expression made me want to roll my eyes. He looked like someone pretending to act "human."
So I gave him what he wanted — fake kindness for fake kindness.
I flashed my best fake smile and said sweetly, "Lowkey perfect. I even dreamed of you."
His eyes widened, and for the first time since I met him, I saw color rise to his cheeks.
Wait. Was he… blushing?
I had to bite the inside of my cheek not to laugh.
Before he could say anything, I turned around and started walking toward the bus stop.
But his voice followed me like an annoying notification. "Where are you going?"
I stopped and turned, giving him the most unamused look I could summon. "Where do you think? The bus station."
He blinked, clearly processing that. There — an emotion flickered in his eyes. Confusion? Discomfort? Despair? Hard to tell.
He simply nodded toward his car parked across the street and walked back to it, not even bothering to argue.
But I knew what that meant.
He wasn't asking.
He was ordering.
So, like a good little employee (or more accurately, contract bride), I followed.
In the car, the silence was deafening.
Only the hum of the engine filled the space between us.
What annoyed me most wasn't the fact that this man beside me was my temporary husband, nor that he was the CEO's golden heir. No.
It was the scent.
Our perfumes mixed in the air — his crisp, woody cologne blending perfectly with the soft vanilla sweetness of mine. It shouldn't have worked, but somehow, it did.
And worse, I noticed his hair.
It wasn't perfectly styled like usual. It looked a little messy, as if he hadn't slept much either.
I caught myself staring and quickly turned to the window. I don't want to know. I just want this fake marriage to end as soon as possible.
When we reached the city, I immediately understood what was happening.
He wasn't taking me to work.
He wanted to show off — again.
The car stopped in front of an elegant building, and I could already see paparazzi lurking nearby.
Of course. The son of the CEO couldn't go anywhere without a mini red carpet moment.
Yichen got out first and walked around the car to open my door.
I wasn't stupid. I knew it was part of the act. So fine. If he wanted a show, I'd give him one.
I plastered a radiant smile on my face, the kind that could blind photographers, and reached out my hand like some princess stepping out of her carriage.
He hesitated for a split second before taking it. His grip was gentle… almost trembling. But his face? Still unreadable.
He guided me forward, his hand never leaving mine, and we entered the building together.
I tightened my grip around his arm, playing the role of the loving wife.
Now we really look like a couple, I thought bitterly.
Then I saw it.
Rows and rows of white.
Lace. Satin. Sparkles.
I froze.
We were in a bridal boutique.
"What the—"
Before I could process, smiling attendants came rushing toward us, bowing politely and greeting us with professional excitement.
I suddenly became very aware of my outfit — jeans, an oversized shirt, and scuffed heels that had survived one too many commutes.
Fantastic.
Meanwhile, Yichen looked like he walked straight out of a luxury magazine ad.
He was talking to the staff, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. My attention was too busy drifting toward the endless sea of wedding gowns.
I'd never stepped inside a store like this before.
Everything shimmered — chandeliers sparkling like crystal snow, mirrors reflecting the soft white glow of lace and tulle. Even the air smelled luxurious, like cucumber and fresh linen — the kind of scent rich people probably bathed in.
And despite myself, I felt hypnotized.
I wandered between the racks, fingertips brushing over delicate fabrics, wondering what kind of woman actually wore these dresses.
Certainly not someone like me.
"Hua."
Yichen's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
He was standing by a private fitting area, motioning for me to come.
"Come," he said simply. "We're starting."
"Starting… what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
He didn't answer.
Inside, a plush chair sat beside a small podium. One of the attendants smiled at me. "Miss, what kind of wedding dress would you like to try first?"
I turned automatically to Yichen. Surely he'd answer — he was the one paying for this madness, after all.
But instead, he met my gaze and said quietly, "Tell them."
There it was again — that strangely gentle tone that made it impossible to tell if he was mocking me or being sincere.
I hesitated, then shrugged. "A princess dress," I said boldly. "I want to look like a princess."
The attendant's eyes sparkled. "I have just the thing!"
I tried on several dresses.
One was too heavy. One was too shiny. One made me look like a wedding cake.
But then I stepped out wearing the dress.
The one.
It was soft white, layered with delicate lace, the skirt flowing like a cloud. The bodice hugged me perfectly, and when I turned, the faint shimmer caught the light.
For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
And then I saw Yichen's expression.
He wasn't expressionless anymore.
His lips parted slightly, eyes widening as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
He opened his mouth, hesitated, then said quietly, "You… you look gorgeous."
My heart skipped.
Wait, what?
I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. But before I could reply, he turned away, coughing into his hand like he didn't just compliment me.
I looked back at my reflection — and damn it, for once, I agreed with him.
A few minutes later, the attendants were wrapping the dress carefully into a bag.
"Wait, what are you doing?" I asked.
"Sir already purchased it," one of them said with a smile.
I spun toward Yichen. "You bought it?"
He nodded casually. "Obviously. We'll need it soon."
"Need it for what?"
He met my eyes — calm, confident. "For our official wedding, of course."
I stopped walking.
"What?"
"An official wedding," he repeated. "A proper one. With guests and media. It's part of the deal."
I blinked at him, completely stunned.
"No one said anything about a big wedding! I thought it was just a contract—"
"It is," he cut in. "But contracts can have publicity clauses."
I stared at him, speechless.
He started walking again, and I had no choice but to follow.
On the sidewalk, I grabbed his sleeve. "Wait! Why are you taking this so seriously?"
He turned to me, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. "Because I don't do things halfway."
Then, just as I was about to explode, he added, "I'm coming to your house tonight."
"What?"
"I'll introduce myself to your mother properly. She deserves to meet her son-in-law."
I almost tripped. "No way! That's— That's too much! My mom's— she's not— she's—"
He just smirked, opening the car door for me. "Prepare dinner."
I stood frozen.
"What about work?!" I snapped. "I have to go to work, you know!"
He gestured again toward the car. "Get in."
"No, wait—"
But the look in his eyes left no room for argument.
So I got in.
He closed the door behind me, walked around to the driver's side, and started the engine.
"About work…" he began.
A cold chill ran down my spine. "What about it?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then, in the calmest tone possible, he said, "From now on, you'll be working with me."
My jaw dropped. "With you? What do you mean 'with you'?!"
He glanced at me with a slight smirk. "I mean For me."
My brain short-circuited. "WHAT?!"
He didn't even flinch.
The car rolled smoothly down the street as if he hadn't just shattered my entire peace of mind.
I pressed my hands to my face and groaned. "This is not what I signed up for…"
Yichen's lips curved into the faintest smile — the kind that made me question whether he was serious or just enjoying my suffering.
Either way, I knew one thing for sure.
This fake marriage was about to become very real.