"When a heart has been starved of acceptance for so long, even a single drop of genuine love feels like a monsoon. But to be given an entire ocean? That is a miracle that rewrites your soul."
The tears that slipped down my cheeks were no longer born of grief or the painful echoes of my past. They were tears of absolute, overwhelming relief.
Mrs. Jang, leaning across the massive mahogany dining table, reached out with a delicate, manicured hand and gently wiped a stray tear from my cheek. Her fierce eyes were completely softened, radiating a pure, unconditional maternal warmth.
She looked across the table at her husband. Mr. Jang, the intimidating billionaire patriarch, met her gaze and gave a slow, nearly imperceptible nod, signaling his complete and absolute agreement.
"Sana, dear," Woonseok's mother said, her voice soft but carrying an immovable firmness. "Don't you ever apologize for being the reason our son finally found his true purpose."
Mr. Jang, a man who rarely showed overt emotion, spoke next. His deep, measured voice commanded the quiet room.
"Our son is a man now, Sana," his father stated, looking at Woonseok with a profound sense of pride before turning his sharp gaze back to me. "A man is defined not by his fame, his wealth, or his titles, but by what he chooses to protect in this world. He chose you. And a good son's choice is a parent's ultimate blessing."
He smiled—a genuine, powerful expression of warmth that completely transformed his distinguished face.
"This was the unavoidable cost of genuine, life-altering love," Mr. Jang continued smoothly, gesturing to the two of us. "Jang Woonseok has never been happier, never been more focused, and never been more real than he is right now, with you sitting by his side."
Mrs. Jang nodded vehemently, the diamonds on her ears catching the light. "Your existence is not a burden to us, Sana. It is a gift to our family. We see the beautiful light you bring to him. And we are deeply honored that you chose to trust our Woonseok with your precious heart."
She gave my hand a final, incredibly loving squeeze.
"Now," she declared, her tone instantly shifting from emotional comfort to high-gear excitement. "No more talk of apologies. Only happiness. Wipe those tears away, my beautiful daughter. We have a lot of planning to do!"
I looked from Woonseok's mother to his father. The heavy, suffocating weight that had rested on my chest since I left India was completely lifted. The immense joy running through my veins was intoxicating.
"Yes, Mom," I said, a wide, radiant smile breaking across my face.
The moment the emotional storm settled and dinner was cleared, the entire mood of the Jang household shifted with breakneck speed. It went from a tearful welcome to a highly efficient, joyful planning committee. Woonseok's parents, who were clearly absolutely delighted to finally have a wedding to organize, immediately took total control.
We moved from the dining table to the luxurious living room, the roaring fireplace casting a golden glow over the cream-colored sofas.
"So, the details," Mr. Jang began.
He sat down, adjusting his expensive suit jacket. His previous stoic sternness was entirely replaced by the focused, razor-sharp excitement of a CEO planning the merger of the century.
"We are thinking late spring," his father announced, looking at his wife for confirmation. "The cherry blossoms will be perfect during that time. Woonseok, you will personally handle the venue size and the security requirements for all your celebrity guests, but the location must be right here in Seoul."
Mrs. Jang squeezed my hand excitedly, her dark eyes sparkling with a terrifying amount of energy.
"And Sana, dear, you must tell me what kind of ceremony you dream of!" she insisted, her hands flying as she visualized the event. "A traditional Korean ceremony? A beautiful Indian wedding? I say we will combine them! We will do both! I want you to have the most beautiful, vibrant Sangeet filled with music and dancing, and a grand Pyebaek to honor our ancestors!"
Woonseok, who was sitting beside me, let out a loud chuckle, clearly ready to surrender to his parents' planning whirlwind.
"Mom, slow down, you're scaring her!" Woonseok laughed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Let's start small. Rashi and I were thinking something intimate. Just close family and friends. Possibly a quiet, beautiful outdoor garden wedding."
Mrs. Jang completely scoffed, waving her hand dismissively at the great Sovereign as if he had just suggested serving instant noodles at a royal banquet.
"Nonsense, Woonseok!" his mother scolded. "You are an Idol! You are the Sovereign! Your definition of 'intimate' is still at least two hundred people. We will manage the logistics. Sana's family will need to see this, too! We will find a way to make them incredibly proud of her!"
Mr. Jang nodded firmly. "Exactly. Sana, you just tell us your ideal colors and flowers. And what about your mother and brother? We must ensure they have all the necessary first-class travel arrangements and luxury accommodations made the absolute second they accept the invitation."
A tiny, sharp pang hit my heart at the mention of my family. I knew the reality of my father's cruel words, but the sheer, beautiful generosity of Woonseok's parents—their willingness to welcome whatever family I had left with open arms—filled me with profound warmth.
I was completely swept away by their energy. My earlier nervousness had completely dissolved into the exciting reality of our forever.
"The flowers..." I managed to speak, my imagination instantly blooming. "I love white lilies. And soft pinks. I think they would look beautiful against the cherry blossoms. And... I would love to wear a traditional hanbok for the reception!"
Woonseok leaned down, his lips softly brushing against my ear.
"See, Butterfly?" Woonseok murmured, his deep voice rumbling with pure affection. "You're already planning your debut as Mrs. Jang. Welcome to the family."
I felt my face heat up furiously, the absolute happiness of their unconditional acceptance overwhelming my senses. I gave Woonseok's massive hand a tight, desperate squeeze.
"Thank you, Mr. Idol," I whispered back, turning my bright, tear-stained gaze to his parents. "I love them so much."
Mrs. Jang beamed, her eyes sparkling with fierce motherly affection. Suddenly, she reached out and quite literally shoved her massive, towering son in the shoulder.
"Oh, Woonseok, step aside for a moment!" she commanded playfully, gesturing for him to get up. "I want to talk to her properly. Look at how beautiful she is looking today in this red dress. We have to discuss her jewelry sets and the guest list! Go get us some refreshments from the kitchen."
Woonseok, who was momentarily stunned by his sudden displacement, backed up a step. His hand still lingered protectively near my shoulder.
But before he could even retreat or formulate an argument, Mr. Jang smoothly moved from his armchair and sat down on the sofa immediately to my other side.
I was now sitting directly in the center of the couch, perfectly flanked by my two new, highly doting billionaire parents.
Woonseok stood in the center of the living room, staring at the three of us. He watched the two people who had spent twenty-something years completely focused entirely on him as their only heir, now devoting their absolute, undivided attention to me.
A brilliant flicker of mock jealousy crossed his handsome face.
"Hey!" Woonseok protested loudly, throwing his large hands up in the air in amused surrender. "I am your son! I thought this dinner was supposed to be a congratulatory visit for me finding a wife!"
Mrs. Jang laughed, waving her hand at him again. "So what? We want to spend time with our new daughter. You are absolutely fine. You have had her all to yourself in that penthouse for an entire month! Now, go on, get us some green tea, or go call your manager. We have serious wedding planning to do, and you are interrupting."
Mr. Jang nodded in firm agreement, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips as he looked at his son. "That's right, son. We need Sanas complete focus now. You can wait."
Woonseok stood there for a moment, looking a little bit jealous after seeing us huddled so closely together, but his dark eyes were utterly, beautifully delighted by the sight of his strict parents so immediately and fiercely accepting me into their hearts.
"Fine," Woonseok conceded with a heavy, playful sigh. "But I am getting her favorite tea. And I am sitting right here on this sofa when I get back. Don't go agreeing to a five-hundred-person wedding without my direct input!"
I couldn't resist twisting the knife just a little bit more.
I leaned forward, looking past Mr. Jang to make direct eye contact with Woonseok. My eyes were sparkling with absolute mischief and total triumph.
"Yes, Woon," I said teasingly, perfectly echoing his mother's dismissive tone. "They are right. I also want to spend time with them right now. You go make the tea."
I settled comfortably between his parents, resting my hand lightly on his mother's arm, sealing my brand-new position as the cherished, highly protected new focus of the Jang family.
Woonseok stared at me, his mouth slightly ajar. His expression was a comical, breathtaking mix of betrayed exasperation and profound, endless adoration. He knew exactly what I was doing. He knew I was savoring this beautiful moment, finally receiving the unconditional family love I had been completely denied by my own father.
"You are a traitor, Butterfly," Woonseok muttered under his breath, though his lips twitched helplessly into a reluctant, gorgeous smile. "You just got here, and you have already formed an alliance against me."
He threw his hands up in mock defeat. "Fine! I will get the tea! But I am choosing the seating chart for the wedding myself, and I am putting myself right in the middle of this sofa from now on!"
He turned to his parents, pointing a warning finger at them. "Don't worry, Mom, Dad. I'll be back in five minutes. She is only temporarily leaving me for you!"
Ten minutes later, Woonseok walked back into the living room carrying a silver tray with four steaming cups of traditional tea.
As he stepped through the grand archway, he completely froze.
He didn't announce his presence. He simply stood there in the shadows, losing himself entirely in the sight before him. I was sitting on the sofa, throwing my head back and laughing loudly at a joke Mr. Jang had just made, while Mrs. Jang affectionately patted my hair.
Woonseok looked at the rich, vibrant crimson red of my saree contrasting against the cream cushions. He looked at the pure, unadulterated happiness radiating from my smile—a smile that just yesterday had been clouded with fear and anxiety.
In that quiet moment, his dark eyes whispered a silent, powerful vow:
This is what I fought for. This is my reward.
His admiration in that moment was not just for my beauty, but for my resilience. For the sheer strength it took for me to survive the scandals, the hate, and the heartbreak, and emerge with such pure, healing joy. I was his absolute masterpiece.
It was incredibly late when we finally said our goodbyes. The grand foyer of the estate was filled with warm, lingering hugs, strict demands from Mrs. Jang to eat well, and firm promises of much more frequent visits.
As we rode home in the back of the Maybach, the city lights of Seoul blurring past the tinted windows, I leaned heavily against Woonseok's broad chest. A small, deeply peaceful smile rested on my face. The utter exhaustion of the long, emotional day—and the menacing headache, which had mercifully dulled into the background—was completely secondary to the beautiful lightness in my heart.
When we finally entered the quiet, darkened penthouse, the silence was comforting.
I went straight to the master bedroom, completely eager to shed the heavy, intricate layers of the saree and the lingering remnants of my earlier stress. I stood in front of the vanity, turning my back to the door, and slowly started removing the delicate red and golden bangles from my wrists.
Woonseok followed me into the room a moment later.
He didn't turn away to his closet. He simply stood a few feet behind me, slowly undoing his silk tie and unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt. His dark gaze in the mirror was warm, heavy, and incredibly patient.
"That went well, didn't it, Butterfly?" Woonseok murmured, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room like velvet.
He walked up directly behind me. Without needing to be asked, his large hands gently took the delicate clasp of my saree from my fingers. His warm knuckles intentionally brushed against the bare, sensitive skin of my back as he skillfully helped me unclasp the back of the red blouse.
"It went much better than well, Woon," I sighed contentedly, letting my eyes flutter shut as the heavy fabric loosened. "I love them. I really, really do. Your mother... she is exactly what I needed."
Woonseok leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the bare skin right near my shoulder blade, sending a warm shiver straight down my spine.
"I told you," he whispered against my skin. "They love you because I love you. And you looked absolutely, devastatingly breathtaking tonight, Sana. You completely commanded that room."
He helped the last, heavy folds of the crimson georgette saree slip away, catching the fabric before it hit the floor. Before the winter chill of the penthouse could even touch me, Woonseok reached over to the armchair. He grabbed the large, soft black hoodie I had been wearing the day before and gently pulled it over my head, settling it around my body like a massive, warm cocoon that smelled entirely of his cologne.
"Now," Woonseok said, his hands gripping my waist as he spun me around and pulled me into a simple, deeply comforting embrace.
His sharp, tailored professional attire was a stark contrast to my immediate, oversized comfort.
"Let's talk about that five-hundred-person wedding my mother is actively planning right now," Woonseok stated, raising an eyebrow at me. "We have some serious negotiating to do. Five hundred is way too many people looking at my wife."
I looked up at him, feeling incredibly cozy and safe inside his oversized hoodie, and grinned. The ease with which his parents had accepted me had completely refilled my well of confidence and purpose.
"Nope," I countered playfully, reaching up and tapping his hard chest with my index finger. "Mom, Dad, and I will decide the wedding details. You are officially out of this particular negotiation."
I pushed back slightly from his embrace, placing my hands firmly on his broad shoulders. I narrowed my eyes, putting on my most serious, managerial expression.
"You go focus on what you're actually good at, Mr. Idol," I commanded firmly. "You have a lot of commercial shoots, drama scripts, and brand work lined up. You need to focus on your grand comeback to the industry. I will handle the wedding planning, the guest list, and your parents, okay?"
Woonseok stared down at me. His dark eyes widened in mock, absolute offense at being completely sidelined from his own wedding, yet he was utterly, helplessly captivated by my sudden burst of managerial enthusiasm.
"Wait, wait," Woonseok protested, though a deep, incredibly happy laugh rumbled powerfully in his chest. "You're booting me from my own guest list selection? And you are giving the Sovereign orders on his own schedule?!"
He suddenly stepped forward, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist, lifting me perfectly onto my tiptoes. He lowered his head until our foreheads rested against each other, his voice dropping into a warm, intoxicatingly low murmur.
"Yes, ma'am," Woonseok conceded smoothly, his hot breath fanning my lips. "You're right. I will focus on the grueling idol work that pays for the five-hundred-person wedding my mother just planned. You just call me when it is time to choose my suit."
He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with pure love. "Deal, Chief?"
I smiled, leaning up and kissing him quickly and firmly on the lips.
"Deal, Mr. Idol," I agreed happily. "Now go shower. You smell like billionaire success, but also like old studio dust. And tomorrow... tomorrow is a new day."
The reminder of tomorrow hung in the air for a fraction of a second—a quiet echo of the hospital visit waiting for us at dawn. But wrapped in his arms, the fear couldn't reach me.
"The most terrifying monsters do not hide under the bed or in the dark corners of the room. They hide in the blinding white lights of a hospital room, in the grave silence of a doctor, and in the terrifying realization that your happily-ever-after might be running out of time."
The next morning, I woke up to a sweet, savory aroma wafting through the penthouse that definitely wasn't just coffee.
I slowly fluttered my eyes open. As expected, I didn't find Woonseok's massive frame tangled in the sheets beside me. The spot where he usually slept was already perfectly made, the pillows fluffed.
I pushed the heavy duvet aside, my bare feet padding softly across the cold hardwood floor as I walked out of the bedroom. The warm morning sunlight was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over the living room. I followed the delicious smell straight to the kitchen.
There he was.
Jang Woonseok was standing in front of the marble island, skillfully flipping a row of fluffy pancakes on the stove. He was wearing low-slung gray sweatpants, but his upper half was completely bare, the morning light beautifully highlighting the sharp, muscular ridges of his broad back and the flex of his shoulders as he cooked.
A soft, genuinely happy smile broke across my face.
I slipped quietly into the kitchen and crept up right behind him. Without a word, I wrapped my arms tightly around his bare, warm waist, resting my cheek directly against the center of his broad, solid back.
He didn't even flinch. He just let out a low, incredibly warm chuckle that vibrated through his chest and straight into my skin.
"Morning, Mr. Idol," I mumbled sleepily against his spine, my eyes closed in pure comfort. "Making breakfast?"
Woonseok turned the stove down and slowly turned around within my embrace. He wrapped his massive arms around my shoulders, pulling me flush against his chest, and leaned down to press a quick, deeply tender kiss right to my temple.
"Yes, Butterfly," Woonseok smiled, his dark eyes sparkling with affection. "A little extra energy for your big, boring man today. Good morning."
I giggled, looking up at him. "You are not boring. You are a very good chef."
"Only for you," he murmured, stealing another quick kiss from my lips. "Now sit down. Breakfast is served."
We both sat at the kitchen counter, enjoying the beautiful spread he had prepared. We shared easy, lighthearted conversation, laughing about his parents' ridiculous wedding planning from the night before and discussing his upcoming schedule. For that brief, beautiful hour, we were the absolute perfect picture of domestic bliss. I felt entirely safe, completely untouched by the rest of the world.
But then, duty called.
Woonseok had to leave for his usual intensive shooting schedule. I walked him to the front door of the penthouse, helping him adjust the collar of his designer coat. I wrapped my arms around his neck, giving him a long, desperate hug, inhaling the rich scent of his cologne.
"I'll see you tonight, my wife," he whispered, kissing my forehead one last time.
"Have a good day, Woon," I smiled brightly.
I stood in the doorway and watched until he stepped into the private elevator. The heavy metal doors slid shut.
The moment the elevator descended, the bright, cheerful smile completely vanished from my face.
I closed the front door, the heavy click of the lock echoing in the massive, suddenly empty apartment. Almost immediately, the dull, menacing low throb behind my eyes returned with a vicious vengeance. The time for pretending was officially over.
I walked slowly back into the master bedroom, the pain in my head making the room spin slightly. I opened my massive walk-in closet, bypassing all the beautiful, vibrant clothes Woonseok had bought for me. Today, I wasn't dressing to impress. I was getting ready to go to the hospital to check my brain.
I pulled on a simple, dark, long-sleeved dress that fell past my knees. I applied absolutely minimal makeup, deliberately choosing an appearance that would allow me to completely blend in and disappear into the background. I picked up my car keys and my small leather wallet.
I stood in the hallway, looking down at my phone. My thumb hovered over Woonseok's contact name.
The urge to send him a text, to beg him to turn the car around and come with me to hold my hand, was violently overwhelming. But I gritted my teeth and locked the screen. If I told him I was going back to the hospital, he would completely drop everything. He would cancel his commercial, break his contracts, and derail his entire day just for a headache. I couldn't be that burden to him.
Instead, I grabbed a small sticky notepad from the counter and jotted down a quick, entirely fake note with a trembling hand:
Went shopping! Be back before you are. Love you!
I left the bright yellow note prominently in the center of the kitchen island, ensuring my sudden absence would be perfectly explained by a normal, trivial, everyday activity.
It's just a simple check-up, I told myself fiercely, taking a deep breath to ignore the heavy, suffocating knot of fear twisting in the bottom of my stomach. No panic. Just facts. It is just a migraine.
The drive to the Seoul Private Clinic felt like a death march. The sky outside was a crisp, clear blue, completely at odds with the dark storm brewing inside my head.
When I finally reached the clinic and was called into the pristine, freezing white office, Dr. Han was already sitting behind her desk. She was reviewing a thick file with a deeply serious expression.
I walked in and sat down in the leather chair opposite her, my hands tightly clutching the strap of my purse.
Dr. Han looked up. Her eyes immediately scanned the empty space beside me.
"Ms. Sana," Dr. Han began, her voice professional but laced with a heavy undercurrent of concern. She leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the desk. "Did you come here alone today? Or are you with someone? Did you not bring a guardian like I asked?"
My throat violently tightened. The air in the room suddenly felt incredibly thin. In my entire life, whenever a doctor asked that specific question, it was never, ever a good sign.
"I'm alone here, um..." I hesitated, realizing how suspicious and vulnerable I looked. I desperately needed to explain my situation without giving away Woonseok's identity. "I live with my boyfriend. We are... we are soon going to get married."
I tried to inject a forced, cheerful brightness into my voice, desperately hoping to convince her that I was perfectly fine and supported.
But the doctor's face only became more tense. The forced brightness completely failed. Dr. Han clasped her hands together tightly on the desk, looking at me with a gaze that made my blood run cold.
"Ma'am, based on the blood work and the initial neurological scans we ran yesterday, we need more information," Dr. Han stated carefully, choosing her words with terrifying precision. "I need to get more extensive tests of your brain and your entire nervous system. We need to conduct a full, contrast MRI and possibly a full-body scan today."
The words hit me like physical blows to the chest. MRI. Full-body scan.
"Is... is everything okay?" I asked, the sheer, unadulterated fear instantly turning my voice brittle and small.
"We just need some more checkups to rule certain things out," Dr. Han repeated smoothly, completely avoiding a direct answer to my question.
"But can you just tell me what I have?!" I pressed, my voice suddenly cracking with desperation, entirely dropping the polite facade. My hands shook violently in my lap. "Please, Doctor. The headache... it is getting worse. It is throbbing constantly. What did the blood test say?"
Dr. Han sighed heavily. "Ms. Sana, before we jump to conclusions, can you tell me some symptoms you feel other than the severe headache? Has anything traumatic happened to you recently? Perhaps before a month ago?"
I froze. My breath hitched in my throat. I looked down at my trembling fingers, knowing I couldn't withhold the truth if I wanted an accurate diagnosis.
"Um, Doc... before about a month ago, I went through a very, very big depression," r Due to that immense stress, I was getting some severe anxiety attacks a few weeks ago. My heart would race, I couldn't breathe... but they stopped entirely once I moved in with my fiancé. Once I felt safe."
Dr. Han's eyes softened with genuine sympathy, but her professional demeanor didn't waver. She took a quick, measured breath.
"I understand your anxiety, and I am very sorry you went through that," she said gently. "Stress can indeed manifest in severe physical ways. But... considering these specific blood markers, I cannot give you a diagnosis without absolute certainty. First, we will do all the body checkups and the MRI right now. And tomorrow, when the final imaging results are printed, you absolutely need to come back here with your fiancé, or your parents, or someone close to you. I will not discuss the final results with you alone."
I looked down at my hands, my vision instantly blurring as hot, terrifying tears welled up in my eyes.
The forced reliance on a support system was the ultimate red flag. I knew exactly what that request meant. They only asked for family when the news was too heavy for one person to carry.
I thought of Woonseok, currently standing under the bright studio lights, smiling for the cameras, feeling entirely safe and focused on his grand comeback, completely unaware that his fiancée was sitting in a sterile room terrified for her life. And I thought of my parents in India—worlds away, unreachable, and completely estranged.
I had no one else. Just him. And I was terrified of breaking his heart.
"Okay, Doctor," I replied, my voice reduced to a small, sad, broken thread. "Okay. I will do the scans. And I'll come back tomorrow."
By the time I finally finished the grueling, claustrophobic MRI scan and drove back to the penthouse, the sun had completely set over Seoul. The city was bathed in darkness, mirroring the absolute, frantic, frightened mess inside my chest.
It was late when I parked the car. I wiped my face frantically in the rearview mirror, making sure my eyes weren't red, and forced my lips into a practiced, casual smile.
I unlocked the front door and pushed it open quietly.
Instead of being closed away in his glass study like he usually was at this hour, the living room lights were blazing. Woonseok was sitting directly on the center of the sofa, his long legs stretched out, tapping his phone against his chin.
He looked up the second the door clicked shut. A massive wave of immediate, profound relief washed over his handsome face, but it was almost instantly followed by deep confusion.
"Butterfly! You're back," Woonseok said, his deep voice sounding a little surprised as he shoved his phone into his pocket. "Um... you came early? I read your note. I thought you'd be hours at the mall shopping with the black card."
He stood up, his massive frame easily crossing the living room toward me. But as he got closer, his warm smile began to quickly fade. His sharp, incredibly observant eyes took in my dark, plain dress, my lack of shopping bags, my pale complexion, and the deeply strained, exhausted expression I couldn't fully hide.
"Butterfly, what happened?" Woonseok asked, his voice dropping into that low, fiercely protective octave. He reached out, gently cupping my arms. "Where did you go? You seem a little tired. You don't look like you were just shopping."
Panic violently flared in my chest. He read me far too easily.
I forced a loud, casual lightness into my voice, quickly pulling away from his touch and reaching blindly for the nearest, most believable lie.
"Um... yeah!" I said, forcing a bright laugh as I put my purse down on the console table. "I went to do some shopping... and then I stopped for some coffee. But honestly, Woon, the mall was just so incredibly crowded today. I got so tired of walking around and carrying the bags, so I just decided to leave them at the store to be delivered and came home early."
I scrambled desperately for physical proof of my lie. I reached into my tote bag and pulled out a small, warm plastic bag I had grabbed from a street vendor on the drive back.
"Look! I got you something to eat!" I announced, shoving the bag toward his chest to distract him. "I bought some spicy tteokbokki from that little place you really like near the studio!"
I didn't wait for his reaction. I moved swiftly, literally darting past his towering figure, desperately trying to escape his heavy, scrutinizing gaze.
"I'm just going to change!" I called over my shoulder, practically running toward the master bedroom.
I slammed the bedroom door shut, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. I threw off the dark dress, completely ignoring the luxurious clothes in the closet, and hurriedly pulled on an oversized t-shirt and loose sweatpants. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely tie the drawstring.
My mind was entirely elsewhere. It was completely filled with the terrifying image of Dr. Han's tense face, the deafening, rhythmic banging of the MRI machine, and the looming, ominous threat of tomorrow's appointment.
The bedroom door slowly pushed open.
Woonseok walked in, holding the bag of tteokbokki. He stood by the doorway, quietly watching my hurried, jerky, entirely chaotic movements.
"You seem a little sick, Sana," Woonseok noted, his voice laced with heavy, undeniable concern. He set the food down on the vanity and took a step toward me, his brow furrowed deeply. "Are you really fine? Come here. Let me check your temperature."
He reached his large, warm hand out to press against my forehead.
"No, no!" I gasped, instinctively taking a massive step backward, physically dodging his touch. "I'm not sick, Woon! I am just tired! Just really, really exhausted from walking."
Woonseok's hand froze in mid-air. A flash of hurt and deep suspicion crossed his dark eyes. He slowly lowered his arm, looking at me as if I were a puzzle he suddenly couldn't solve.
I knew I was pushing him away, but if he touched me, if he looked into my eyes right now, the dam would completely break. I would shatter into a million pieces and confess everything. I needed a distraction. I needed a shield.
"Actually..." I blurted out, my voice trembling slightly as I quickly forced a smile. "I'm not just tired. I'm... I'm just curious about the wedding."
It worked like absolute magic.
Woonseok completely froze. The heavy suspicion and intense scrutiny in his eyes vanished, instantly replaced by a soft, profound warmth. The Sovereign's ultimate weakness was my willingness to be his wife.
His face softened entirely. "The wedding?" he echoed, his voice dropping into a tender, slightly amazed whisper. "Already? Are you really thinking about it?"
"Yes, Mr. Idol," I affirmed rapidly, desperately latching onto the safe topic. I walked over and gently wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face against his chest so he couldn't see my eyes. "It's all I can think about. Your mom's ideas... the flowers... the guest list. It's just a lot on my mind."
Woonseok let out a deep, relieved sigh. He wrapped his massive arms securely around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight, incredibly gentle hug. He buried his face in my hair, pressing a long kiss to the crown of my head.
"Then that's good, Butterfly," Woonseok murmured, his voice vibrating against my ear. "But don't bother yourself too much about it, okay? It's my wedding too. I will help. I told you yesterday, you are not planning this alone. Whatever you want, however you want it... I will make it happen."
I squeezed him tighter, genuinely appreciating the beautiful, loving gesture, while silently hating myself for manipulating his love to maneuver him entirely away from the real issue.
"Yes, Mr. Idol," I whispered into his shirt. "I know."
The rest of the evening felt like a heavy, suffocating blur.
We sat at the dining table eating the tteokbokki and the dinner his private chef had prepared, but I was entirely quiet. I barely spoke, mindlessly pushing the food around my expensive porcelain plate. Every time Woonseok tried to bring up his day at the shoot, I just offered a tight, forced nod.
Eventually, the pain behind my eyes became too unbearable to hide.
"I'm going to bed early," I announced quietly, pushing my half-full plate away. "My head is just... really hurting from the mall."
Woonseok looked up, his brow furrowing again, but he simply nodded. "Take your medicine. I have to read through a few new drama scripts, but I will be in soon."
I retreated to the bedroom. I quickly swallowed two of the strong painkillers Dr. Han had prescribed, turned off all the lamps, and crawled under the heavy duvet. But sleep was an absolute impossibility.
The darkness of the room only amplified the terrifying thoughts in my head.
I tossed and turned violently in the bed. I rolled to my left, staring at the window. Ten minutes later, I rolled to my right, staring at the bedroom door. My head was pounding in a vicious, rhythmic ache that matched my racing heart.
An hour later, the bedroom door slowly creaked open.
A sliver of golden light from the hallway spilled into the dark room. Woonseok walked in silently. He had taken a shower; his dark hair was damp, and he was wearing simple black sweatpants.
"Sorry, Butterfly," Woonseok whispered softly into the darkness, carefully lifting the duvet to avoid waking me. "I had a lot of scripts to read. I'm sorry I took so long."
He slid into the bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his heavy, muscular weight. The moment he lay down next to me, he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at my face illuminated by the moonlight.
He immediately saw the tension in my jaw, the tears caught in my eyelashes, and the way my hands were gripping the sheets.
"Butterfly..." Woonseok's voice was incredibly low, filled with a mixture of guilt and deep concern. "Are you angry with me?"
I opened my eyes, looking at his beautiful, worried face. "No, Mr. Idol. Why are you saying that?"
"Because you didn't talk to me much at dinner," Woonseok replied softly, his large hand reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from my face. His thumb stroked my cheek. "And... are you really not sick? Look at your face, Sana. You are so pale. You look like you are in pain."
My heart shattered at the raw, vulnerable concern in his eyes.
"No, Mr. Idol," I whispered, forcing myself to look away from his penetrating gaze, staring at his chest instead. "I'm not angry. And I'm not sick. I'm just... I'm just so incredibly tired today. Please, just let me sleep."
Woonseok stared at me in silence for a long, heavy moment. He knew I was hiding something, but he loved me too much to push me when I was clearly this fragile.
"Okay, Butterfly," Woonseok finally conceded, his voice a soft, rumbling vibration of pure comfort.
He shifted his massive body closer, entirely closing the distance between us. He gently pulled my head so it rested perfectly against his broad chest, right over his steadily beating heart.
"Here," Woonseok whispered, his large, warm hands moving up into my hair. "Let me give you a good head massage. Just relax. I will help you sleep peacefully."
His strong fingers began to move expertly across my scalp, applying the absolute perfect amount of pressure, massaging the tense, aching muscles at the base of my neck. The gentle, rhythmic motion, combined with the incredibly safe, warm scent of his skin and the steady sound of his heartbeat, slowly began to lull my panicked mind.
I closed my eyes, letting out a long, trembling breath as the pain finally began to dull.
I wrapped my arm around his torso, holding onto him as if he were the only solid thing left in the universe. Lying there in the dark, surrounded by his absolute, unconditional protection, I sent a desperate, silent prayer into the night.
Please. I finally found my family. I finally found my home. Please, let everything be fine tomorrow.
Hi everyone! this chapter was incredibly heavy to write. Sana has finally found the unconditional family love she always craved with Mr. and Mrs. Jang, and now she is absolutely terrified of losing it all. Her decision to hide the MRI from Woonseok isn't born out of deceit, but out of a desperate need to protect his happiness.
But Woonseok is too observant. He knows his Butterfly too well. Did you catch how quickly he noticed her pale face and shaking hands? The way he just held her in the dark without forcing her to speak shows exactly why he is the ultimate green flag. 🥺💚
Will Sana finally break down and tell him before the appointment tomorrow? Or will she try to face Dr. Han alone again?
💬 I love reading your inline comments! Tell me which scene in these last two chapters made you the most emotional. Don't forget to hit the star/vote button before you go! ✨