Vows of Deception

Sana moved swiftly from her seat, her posture rigid with purpose as she adjusted the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. In her other hand, she held a document, her eyes scanning its contents with practiced efficiency. Her desk was cluttered with stacks of papers, folders, and loose notes—a chaos she usually thrived in. But today, the weight of it all felt heavier, less satisfying.

The room was otherwise silent, save for the faint rustle of pages being flipped. Momo, sprawled across the sofa, looked as if she’d long surrendered to boredom. She groaned, tossing a stack of documents onto the coffee table with a dramatic sigh before collapsing back onto the cushions.

“Never knew the Im's had this much work piling up,” Momo muttered, her tone laced with exaggerated disbelief. She gestured lazily toward the mountain of paperwork, her expression one of complete exasperation. “Why’d you even agree to help with all this?”

Sana didn’t glance up, her pen gliding across the paper as she signed yet another document. “Nayeon is my wife,” she replied evenly, her voice calm but firm. “It’s my duty to step in when necessary—for the sake of the headquarters and the eyes of the public.”

Momo arched a brow, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Oh, so now you’re calling her your wife?” she teased, dragging out the word as if it were foreign on her tongue. “It’s only been two days since you two started living together. Is the great Hirai Sana softening up already?”

Sana finally paused, her pen hovering over the page as she turned her gaze toward Momo. Her expression remained neutral, but her eyes carried a flicker of warning. “No, not at all,” she said firmly, her voice cool and measured. “You know the only reason I’m doing this.”

The grin on Momo’s face faltered slightly under Sana’s sharp stare. The teasing air between them dimmed, replaced by an unspoken weight that settled in the room.

Momo leaned back, folding her arms behind her head as she studied her sister. “Yeah, I know,” she murmured, her tone softer now, less mocking. She didn’t push further, though the tension in the air lingered, heavy and unresolved.

Sana returned to her work, the scratch of her pen filling the silence once more. Her focus remained unwavering, but the set of her jaw betrayed the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.

 “Ah, right!” Momo exclaimed suddenly, snapping out of her boredom as she straightened up. Her fingers began rifling through the scattered documents with newfound urgency, a particular thought sparking in her mind. “I remember reading something about the Im’s target company—something like P—”

“It’s the Park’s Residence,” Sana interjected, her tone neutral but laced with curiosity. “What about it?”

“Yes! The Park!” Momo finally found the file she was looking for, holding it up triumphantly. She opened it, scanning the pages quickly. “It says here that Im Hongjin offered an alliance to the Park’s, but it got rejected. The eldest daughter turned it down, but there’s no explanation written about why.”

Sana’s brows furrowed slightly as she considered Momo’s words. “Well, you know how they operate,” she replied after a beat, her voice steady. “Especially that older daughter. From what I’ve heard at headquarters, she’s fiercely independent. Doesn’t rely on anyone and always assumes everything will go her way.

“She never attended any of the meetings at headquarters, right?” Momo asked, placing the papers down on the coffee table.

“Not once,” Sana confirmed, leaning back slightly. “No one has seen her face or interacted with her directly. But the Im’s are intimidated by the Park’s reputation, especially hers. Im Hongjin was so desperate to gain leverage over them he even considered…” Sana’s words faltered, her voice trailing off. Her grip on the paper in her hand tightened, the edges crinkling under the force.

Momo’s observant gaze caught the shift in Sana’s demeanor. “He considered what?” she pressed gently.

Sana exhaled sharply through her nose, her knuckles turning white. “He planned to give up the company entirely and…sell his daughter to a group of…” She stopped, her jaw clenching visibly as she struggled to voice the rest. Her anger simmered, palpable and raw.

“To a group of what, Sana?” Momo’s voice dropped, her usually teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.

“Maniacs,” Sana spat bitterly, her voice trembling with controlled fury. “Foreigners who were willing to pay obscene amounts of money.”

Momo blinked, stunned. “Now I’m really curious,” she said after a moment, her words slow and deliberate. “You’re not exactly the empathetic type, especially toward strangers. So what made you go and kneel that day, begging to save Imtech and marry the daughter?” She leaned back against the cushions, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest as she waited for an answer.

Sana leaned into her chair, letting her body sink until her gaze met the ceiling. Her breathing steadied, but her hands trembled faintly as she clasped them together. “To save Nayeon,” she admitted softly, her voice almost a whisper. “I’m a woman, Momo. I know how it feels to look in the mirror and see nothing but disgust staring back at you. I made the request without a second thought—not because I wanted to marry her, but because it was the only condition Dad gave me. For the sake of appearances, for the sake of their damned business. If I hadn’t acted, Nayeon would’ve…” She stopped, her voice cracking, unable to finish the thought.

Momo’s face hardened, a rare seriousness taking over her usual playful expression. “How did you even know they were planning to do something like that?” she asked, her voice low, laced with anger.

Sana closed her eyes briefly, a flicker of memory flashing behind her lids. “I was at a bar with some friends,” she began, her voice tightening. “They dragged me there, and I didn’t want to go, but I’m thankful I did. That’s when I saw Nayeon’s father—Im Hongjin—sitting at a table with a group of men. Black suits, heavy accents, and too much alcohol. They were loud, shouting over the music, and I was close enough to hear them.”

Momo leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the sofa. “What did you hear?”

“One of the men said he wanted to buy his daughter. That he’d pay millions,” Sana said, her words like venom. “And without hesitation, Im Hongjin agreed.”

Momo’s jaw tightened, her knuckles turning white. “What the fuck? If Nayeon ever finds out—”

“She won’t,” Sana interrupted sharply, her voice rising just enough to make Momo pause. “That’s why you need to keep your mouth shut, Momo. I don’t want her to know. I don’t want to hurt her more than she’s already been hurt.”

Momo studied her sister intently, her dark eyes searching Sana’s expression for answers, but finding only a carefully constructed mask. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, tinged with a quiet skepticism that betrayed her confusion. “Why do you care so much?”

Sana’s hand paused mid-motion, the faint sound of pen on paper ceasing as she lifted her gaze toward the documents scattered before her. She exhaled, a long, weary sigh that carried the weight of truths she was unwilling to fully articulate. “Because Nayeon…” she began, her tone distant, almost as if she were speaking to herself rather than to Momo. “She’s good. I know she's a good person...”

The confession hung in the air like an unwelcome guest, heavy and suffocating. Silence swallowed the room, the kind that wasn’t empty but filled with the things neither of them dared to say. For all her teasing and wit, Sana’s words had stripped away the protective layers she so often wore, revealing a sliver of vulnerability that left Momo momentarily at a loss.

Sana stood abruptly, shaking off the weight of the moment with practiced ease. She smoothed the front of her blouse, her fingers deftly arranging the papers on her desk. The reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and for the briefest of seconds, her own guarded expression stared back, betraying nothing. “That’s enough information for now,” she said lightly, her tone a stark contrast to the tension that still lingered. “There’s a lot, but I don’t want to drown myself in it.”

Her voice turned teasing as she glanced back at Momo, the familiar glimmer of mischief returning to her gaze. “The ImTech chairman called me earlier. So, I’ll take that as my cue to leave. Goodbye, Momo. And try not to get yourself into trouble, okay?”

Momo rolled her eyes, feigning indignation even as she waved Sana off. “I won’t,” she grumbled, though the slight pout in her tone betrayed her lingering curiosity. “But don’t think this means you’re off the hook. I still want to hear everything you know about ImTech later.”

Sana smirked, miming a gesture of zipping her lips before slipping out of the room. The soft click of the door echoed in her absence, leaving Momo alone with her thoughts.

Sinking back into the plush cushions of the sofa, Momo let out a heavy sigh, her head tilting back until she was staring up at the ceiling. The room felt emptier now, the absence of her sister’s presence amplifying the quiet. Her gaze drifted to Sana’s empty seat, lingering there for a moment before returning to the blank expanse above.

“Would it really hurt her to admit she cares about Nayeon?” she whispered into the stillness, the question more for herself than anyone else. But the silence offered no answers, leaving her alone with the weight of what had been left unsaid.

Nayeon stirred awake at the faint rustle of movement beside her. The sunlight pouring through the window was intrusive, burning through her eyelids as she forced them open. Her vision adjusted slowly, and the first thing she saw was Mina’s face, mere inches away. Those warm, familiar eyes were already watching her, soft with affection.

“You’ve been staring?” Nayeon murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep, but the smile tugging at her lips was unmistakable.

Mina chuckled lightly, a sound so gentle it made Nayeon’s heart clench. “Good morning,” Mina said, her voice a soothing melody. She leaned into Nayeon’s embrace, her arms winding around her partner’s waist. “Shouldn’t you be at work? It’s not Saturday yet.”

“I don’t care,” Nayeon replied with a lazy grin, pulling Mina closer. Her face burrowed into Mina’s chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. “I want to stay like this. Just for a little longer.”

Mina laughed softly again, her fingers threading absentmindedly through Nayeon’s disheveled hair. “You’re hopeless,” she teased, though her arms tightened ever so slightly, as if to say she wasn’t in any rush to let go either.

Time slipped away from them as they lay entwined, their breathing falling into a slow, harmonious cadence. It was as though the world outside had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in this small, fragile bubble of peace.

“Mina-yah,” Nayeon said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?” Mina’s gaze flickered down, catching the faint vulnerability in Nayeon’s expression.

“Can we stay like this?” Nayeon’s voice wavered, the quiet plea laced with something raw, something heavy.

Mina hesitated, sensing the weight of the question. “Like cuddling like this?” she asked, her tone playful in an attempt to diffuse the intensity.

Nayeon shook her head, her face still pressed against Mina’s chest. “No… I mean, like this. Like a normal day. Pretend the wedding never happened. Pretend none of it exists. I just… I want to stay like this—with you. Doing the things we used to, like we’re the only ones here. Because when you’re near, everything feels calm.”

The vulnerability in Nayeon’s voice struck a chord in Mina, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words. Her hand stilled in Nayeon’s hair as her gaze drifted toward the lamp on the bedside table. A flicker of uncertainty passed through her eyes, but she quickly pushed it aside.

Mina tightened her hold on Nayeon, her embrace speaking the words she couldn’t quite voice. “Sure,” she murmured, her lips brushing against Nayeon’s temple. “We will.”

Nayeon exhaled, the tension in her chest unraveling slightly. She clung to Mina, grounding herself in the warmth and familiarity of her presence.After what felt like an eternity, Mina and Nayeon finally decided to embrace the morning. Mina busied herself in the kitchen, the gentle clinking of utensils and the soft hiss of the stove filling the air, while Nayeon retreated to the bathroom for a quick shower.

When Nayeon emerged, refreshed and dressed casually, she was greeted by the sight of Mina arranging their breakfast on the table. The scene was domestic, almost idyllic, and it brought a soft smile to Nayeon’s lips. She crossed the room quietly, stepping behind Mina and wrapping her arms around her waist. Resting her chin on Mina’s shoulder, Nayeon closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

Mina stilled for a moment, then smiled, her hands instinctively moving to rest over Nayeon’s. Her fingers gently traced small patterns across Nayeon’s knuckles, a quiet gesture of affection. She leaned into the embrace slightly, enjoying the warmth that Nayeon always brought.

“You’re clingy today,” Mina teased softly, though her voice carried no hint of complaint.

Nayeon hummed, nuzzling her face into Mina’s shoulder. “I missed this,” she admitted.

Mina’s smile faltered for just a second, a shadow of unease flickering in her eyes. She missed this too—missed the mornings they used to share before Nayeon’s work consumed her time, before the wedding. It had been months since Nayeon stayed long enough to share breakfast, let alone moments like this. And now, with the thought of Nayeon living under the same roof as someone else—her wife, no less—the fear of losing her lingered like an unwelcome guest.

“What are you thinking about?” Nayeon’s voice was gentle, breaking through Mina’s thoughts. She pulled back slightly, just enough to turn Mina around to face her.

Mina hesitated, her lips curving into a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nothing,” she said quietly, wrapping her arms around Nayeon this time, pressing their bodies together. “I just… love you.”

The confession was so simple, yet so profound, it made Nayeon’s cheeks flush a soft pink. Her arms instinctively tightened around Mina, pulling her closer. “I love you too,” she whispered, the words carrying a tenderness she rarely allowed herself to show.

But even as they held each other, the guilt weighed heavily on Nayeon’s chest. She hadn’t told Mina about living with Sana, about the arrangement that now defined her life. She kept it buried, hidden beneath layers of fleeting moments like these, afraid of what the truth might bring.

Even if the guilt lingered, threatening to spill over, she chose to ignore it, clinging instead to the warmth of Mina’s embrace.

Nayeon and Mina eventually settled at the dining table, the simple yet satisfying breakfast Mina had prepared laid out between them. The air was light, punctuated by the occasional clatter of utensils and soft laughter as they exchanged stories. For a moment, the weight of reality seemed far away, replaced by the comfort of their shared bubble.

As they finished their meal, Nayeon leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee while watching Mina gather the dishes. The sunlight filtering through the curtains framed Mina perfectly, illuminating her delicate features. It was a sight Nayeon wanted to memorize, to keep in her mind during the long hours spent away from her.

“I’ll wash those,” Nayeon offered, standing to take the plates from Mina’s hands.

Mina raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming. “Since when do you wash dishes?”

“Since I decided I’m going to stay home today,” Nayeon replied with a grin, taking the stack of plates despite Mina’s protests.

“You’re serious?” Mina asked, following her to the sink.

“Dead serious,” Nayeon said, rolling up her sleeves dramatically. “No work, no calls, just us.”

Mina leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her expression softening. “You’re spoiling me today.”

“Always,” Nayeon teased, glancing over her shoulder with a wink before turning back to the sink.

The moment felt almost too perfect, a fragile piece of normalcy they both longed for. But as Nayeon scrubbed the dishes, the faint buzz of her phone vibrating on the table broke the spell. She froze, her hands pausing mid-motion as guilt and reality seeped back in.

Mina noticed, her eyes flicking to the phone. “You can get that,” she said softly, though the hint of disappointment was impossible to miss.

Nayeon shook her head quickly. “It’s nothing. Probably just a work email.”

But Mina wasn’t convinced. “It’s okay, Nayeon. I know your job is important. You don’t have to pretend for my sake.”

Nayeon dried her hands, turning to Mina with a small sigh. “I’m not pretending,” she said, stepping closer. “I just… I don’t want anything to ruin this.”

Mina studied her for a moment before offering a gentle smile. “Okay,” she said, letting it drop. “But if it’s urgent, you should check. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

Nayeon hesitated, then walked to the table and flipped her phone over. The screen lit up with Jeongyeon’s name and a text notification.

"Call me ASAP. Your Father called a meeting. It can’t wait."

Nayeon’s heart sank as she read the message. She knew Jeongyeon wouldn’t disturb her unless it was truly urgent. Still, disappointment weighed heavily on her as she glanced at Mina.

Mina noticed the shift in Nayeon’s expression. “What is it?” she asked softly, tilting her head in concern.

“It’s…” Nayeon hesitated, her mind racing. She hated lying to Mina, but the truth about why she’d been so preoccupied these last few days wasn’t something she could reveal. Not yet.

“It’s from Jeongyeon,” she admitted finally, holding up the phone. “There’s an urgent issue at work. I need to go in.”

Mina’s expression fell slightly, but she quickly masked it with a small smile. “I see,” she said, stepping closer to gently brush her fingers along Nayeon’s arm. “You don’t have to explain. Work’s important.”

Nayeon hated how understanding Mina was. It only made the guilt weigh heavier. “I’m sorry,” she said, placing her hands on Mina’s shoulders. “I really wanted to spend the day with you.”

Mina shook her head, her smile soft but a little sad. “It’s okay. We’ll have more time later.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Nayeon promised, leaning in to press a kiss to Mina’s forehead. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Mina nodded, though the flicker of doubt in her eyes was hard to miss. “Take care, okay?”

“I will,” Nayeon said, grabbing her jacket and phone before heading for the door.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Mina stood in the quiet apartment, the warmth of their morning already beginning to fade.

When Nayeon reached the bottom floor of her apartment building, Jeongyeon and Jimin were already waiting outside near a sleek black car. Jeongyeon was seated in the front passenger seat, casually scrolling through her phone, while Jimin stood by the car, glancing at his watch impatiently.

The moment Jimin saw her, he opened the backseat door with a polite nod. “Good morning, Ms. Im,” he said in his usual professional tone.

Nayeon offered a curt nod, sliding into the car. Her annoyance was palpable as she settled into the seat, the day with Mina now a distant memory. Jimin shut the door behind her and quickly rounded the vehicle to take his place in the driver’s seat.

The car’s engine purred to life as Jimin adjusted the rearview mirror. Jeongyeon finally looked up from her phone, glancing back at Nayeon with a raised brow.

“What’s the meeting about?” Nayeon asked, her voice sharp. Her arms crossed as she stared out the window.

Jeongyeon shrugged. “Your father didn’t share the details. Just said it was urgent.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Nayeon muttered under her breath. “It’s his specialty—interrupting my day without warning.”

Jimin, sensing the tension, wisely stayed quiet as he navigated the streets. Jeongyeon, meanwhile, leaned back in her seat, her phone now forgotten as she gazed out her window.

The drive was uneventful but felt agonizingly long. By the time they arrived at ImTech headquarters, Nayeon’s irritation had only grown. Jimin quickly exited the car and opened her door, standing aside as she stepped out.

Nayeon didn’t wait for Jeongyeon, who climbed out on her own, muttering something under her breath as she adjusted her jacket.

Inside the grand lobby, Nayeon’s heels clicked loudly against the polished marble floors, her stride purposeful. Jeongyeon and Jimin flanked her, but their silent rivalry soon became apparent.

Jeongyeon quickened her pace to match Nayeon’s, subtly nudging Jimin aside in her bid to remain the most attentive. Jimin, unfazed, simply shifted positions and kept walking. Their subtle contest would have been amusing if Nayeon wasn’t so preoccupied.

When they reached the elevator, Jeongyeon pressed the call button with a triumphant smirk, as though she’d won some invisible race. Jimin shot her a look but didn’t respond.

The ride up to the executive floor was quiet. When the doors opened, Jeongyeon peeled off toward her desk without a word, her expression one of smug satisfaction. Jimin hesitated for a moment, then headed toward the coffee station, leaving Nayeon to face her father alone.

Pausing outside the heavy oak door to his office, Nayeon took a deep breath. Steeling herself, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Her father stood by the expansive window, his back to her, hands clasped behind him. The city sprawled before him, its constant movement a stark contrast to the stillness of the room.

“Dad,” Nayeon called, her voice steady despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Im Hongjin turned slowly, his sharp gaze landing on her. He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. “Sit,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Nayeon crossed the room and sank into the chair. “What’s so urgent?” she asked, her voice clipped. “I had plans.”

Hongjin’s expression remained unreadable as he moved to sit across from her. “Your plans are irrelevant. This is about the company. And your role in it.” 

Hongjin’s shoes clicked against the floor as he moved toward his desk, his movements deliberate and calculated. The air around him was heavy with unspoken tension. He opened a drawer, rummaged through it for a moment, then pulled something out and shoved it across the desk in front of Nayeon. The gesture was brisk, almost as if he had been waiting for the right moment to show her whatever was hidden in his hand.

Nayeon’s eyes fell on the object—a picture. The moment she saw it, her breath hitched, and for a brief second, her mind blanked. The image was of her and Sana, taken that night, after the wedding. They were standing in the garden, bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights, but their expressions told a different story. There was a tension in their eyes, a stiffness to their postures that spoke of forced smiles and hidden discomfort. The moment captured in the photograph was anything but a moment of bliss. It was the moment when Nayeon had told Sana, coldly, that she wouldn’t be kinder to her even after the wedding, the moment when she had walked away from her, leaving Sana standing alone in the garden.

Nayeon clenched her jaw as she stared at the picture. If this were to get out, if a reporter were to catch wind of this moment, it could destroy everything. The public would see it as proof that the marriage wasn’t born of love, that it was nothing but a farce. Her father had always warned her about the image they needed to project, and this picture could shatter the carefully crafted facade. The world assumed that Nayeon and Sana were in love, that their marriage was a union of affection and desire, but that was never the truth.

Her eyes flicked up to meet her father’s, confusion clouding her expression. “What about it? It’s just a picture—”

“It’s not just a picture!” Hongjin’s voice was harsh, filled with an anger that seemed to seep through the air like smoke. He slammed his palm against the desk, his fingers trembling with the force of his frustration. “The public, the shareholders, everyone at the headquarters—they think the two of you are in love, that’s why they’re so excited about your marriage. That’s why they’re all looking forward to it. But if this—” He gestured toward the picture, his eyes burning with fury. “—if this gets out, we’ll be ruined.”

Nayeon’s gaze hardened, the weight of her father’s words pressing against her chest like an iron weight. She bit back the words that threatened to spill out, words that were full of resentment, full of anger. Instead, she leaned against the desk, trying to steady herself. Her voice came out calm, but there was an edge to it. “Then tell them that we’re not in love,” she said, her words biting.

Hongjin’s face twisted in frustration. “For god’s sake, Nayeon, don’t you understand? After your engagement with the Hirai family, the company started flourishing. The public was finally buying into this image of the perfect couple. They believe in it, and that’s been the key to our success. But if these pictures ever get out, everything will come crashing down.”

Nayeon felt the fire in her father’s words, but she couldn’t help the bitter thought that formed in her mind. It’s not about the company, it’s not about the image. It’s about you. You’ve never cared about me, you only care about the company, about what people think of us.

Her voice was a low murmur as she asked, “Okay, then what do you want me to do?”

Hongjin turned away from her, his back now to the window as he stared out at the city, his hands slipping into his pockets as he exhaled slowly. The tension in the room thickened as he spoke, his voice soft but firm. “Stay by your wife’s side. All the time. Especially in public. You have to act like you’re both madly in love with each other. Do you understand? Madly in love.”

The words sank in, and Nayeon felt her stomach churn. She hated it. She hated all of it—the arrangements, the wedding, the expectations, the charade. She hated being forced into this marriage, being tied to someone she didn’t care for, all because of the demands of the family and the company. The Hirai family, the people who had offered the partnership in exchange for her marriage to their youngest daughter—Sana—it all felt like a trap.

Nayeon’s mind swirled with conflicting emotions, but she knew there was no escaping this. No matter how much she loathed it, no matter how much she resented her father, she couldn’t change the situation. Her father had made his demands clear, and there was nothing she could do but comply. For the company, for the image, for everything that had been built on lies. She was nothing more than a pawn in a game she didn’t want to play.

And the worst part was, the one person she didn’t want to hurt—the one person who mattered—was already caught in the middle of this mess.

With a deep breath, she stood up straight, her mind set, even though it felt like everything inside her was crumbling. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Hongjin didn’t turn to face her, but she knew he heard her words. Without another glance, Nayeon walked out of the office, the weight of her father's words still pressing down on her shoulders like a heavy burden. 

As soon as Nayeon stepped out of her father’s office, she felt a firm grip on her wrist, pulling her without warning. Startled, her eyes darted to the figure dragging her down the corridor. It was a familiar presence, one she instinctively recognized as Sana’s. Yet, for all her surprise, she didn’t resist. There was something inherently different about Sana—something calmer, less oppressive than the suffocating authority of her father.

But as quickly as that thought settled, another rose, sharper and angrier. This woman is why I’m trapped in this mess. The realization burned through her, and with a forceful tug, she yanked her wrist free. Sana stopped, turning to face her, confusion flickering in her eyes.

That’s when Nayeon realized where they were—the meeting hall, its walls soundproof, its expanse devoid of anyone but them. Whatever Sana had planned to say, it was clear she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“What are you doing?” Nayeon’s voice was clipped, her posture stiff as she stepped back, an invisible wall rising between them.

Sana hesitated, as if weighing her words. But then she said, almost pleadingly, “Don’t listen to your father. Or, better yet—don’t trust him.”

Nayeon’s sharp laugh echoed in the empty room. “Who are you to tell me what to do? I know him better than—”

“Know him better than anyone?” Sana interrupted, her voice suddenly edged with frustration. “Is that what you’re trying to say? Tell me then, do you even know—” She stopped abruptly, biting back whatever revelation had been on the tip of her tongue. Her fists clenched at her sides. “Just… don’t do what he says. Don’t let them control you. You don’t have to be a puppet all the time—”

The word landed like a slap. Nayeon flinched, the mask of stoicism she wore cracking for the briefest moment. “Don’t call me that.” Her voice dropped, icy and low. “You don’t have the right.”

Sana opened her mouth to apologize, but Nayeon didn’t let her.

“And for your information,” Nayeon continued, her tone cutting, her words striking like knives, “you’re just one of the people throwing garbage at me. This marriage?” She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “I bet you wanted this in the first place, didn’t you? All of this—this company, this marriage, this family—it’s all bullshit! And you—” She jabbed a finger at Sana’s shoulder with every word, her voice trembling with anger. “You destroyed the life I wanted! You, your family, and your damned partnership.”

Her breathing grew heavier, her chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale. Tears spilled from her eyes, but they didn’t soften her glare. “Stop pretending to be so kind. You’re just another devil in disguise, aren’t you?”

The final words landed like a fatal blow. Sana stood frozen, her mouth slightly open, unable to respond as Nayeon turned her back on her.

At the door, Nayeon paused, one hand gripping the handle tightly. “I told you, I’ll never be kind to you. I’ll do what my father says, not you. This marriage? It’s not real. None of it is.” Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and left, the sound of it closing reverberating through the hall.

Sana remained rooted to the spot, staring at the door long after Nayeon had gone. The words still echoed in her mind, every syllable cutting deeper than she cared to admit. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself.

What had happened to her? The Hirai Sana who always made the right decisions, who always knew the best course of action? She had been trying to help, but somehow, everything she did only pushed Nayeon further away.

Her mind drifted back to the conversation this morning, the one she wished she could forget:

“Don’t stand in the way, Ms. Hirai. If you don’t want to end up dead too, stay quiet. I’ll tell Nayeon to stay with you for the sake of the company, the publicity. Play your role, make this company surpass the Parks’, and when it’s done, we’ll dissolve this sham of a marriage. But if you get involved with Nayeon, with her feelings…”

Her father-in-law’s voice had been chillingly calm, but the threat in his words had been unmistakable.

“I’ll make sure you don’t live to see the aftermath. This conversation doesn’t leave this room, or Nayeon—and everyone you care about—will be dead before your eyes.”

Sana’s grip tightened around herself, the memory as suffocating as the air in the empty hall. Even now, despite the venom in Nayeon’s words, despite the hatred, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away. Protecting Nayeon, even from herself, was the only thing she could do.

And if that meant enduring her coldness, her anger, and her blame, so be it.

After Nayeon left, Mina stood still for a moment, her heart heavy with the weight of their parting. It was always like this, an ache that seemed to fill the space Nayeon left behind. Mina quietly walked into the kitchen, her gaze briefly lingering on the empty chair where Nayeon had been just moments ago. She opened the fridge and scanned the shelves, trying to focus on the task at hand, but her mind kept drifting. It was a disappointment to have to spend the day apart, but Mina understood—work was work, and she knew how important it was to Nayeon. The pressure that Nayeon carried, the expectations from her family, the weight of running ImTech—it was all too much sometimes. Mina had seen it in the way Nayeon carried herself, the way she seemed to carry the world on her shoulders.

As she grabbed her jacket from the stand and slipped her shoes on, a sigh escaped her lips. She couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, wishing she could be with Nayeon, just for a little longer. But duty called, and Mina knew better than to stand in the way of Nayeon's responsibilities. After all, they had their own lives, and they had made their choices. Mina had always known that her relationship with Nayeon wasn't going to be like the others. There was no escaping the complexities, no pretending that their lives were simple.

Mina grabbed her keys, the weight of them in her hand grounding her. She stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her, and made her way to the elevator. She could feel the chill of the morning air biting at her skin as she descended, a reminder of the winter that still clung to the city. She pushed the thoughts of Nayeon aside as she entered the elevator, but her mind couldn’t help but wander back to the beginning.

The first time they had met was so vivid in Mina’s memory, like it had happened just yesterday. It had been snowing in New York, five years ago, and the city had been blanketed in a soft layer of white. Mina had been performing at a small resto bar, a cozy little spot tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow down, the air filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of quiet conversations. Mina had been standing on the stage, her voice weaving through the crowd, when she had spotted Nayeon across the room.

Nayeon had been a regular at the bar, someone who always seemed to be there, quietly observing from the corner. But that night, their eyes met, and there was something different, something that neither of them could explain. At first, they hadn't spoken much—just fleeting glances, polite nods. But things changed when Mina’s senior introduced them. That was when the connection between them had deepened, slowly but surely.

In those early days, Mina had looked forward to each night she would perform, knowing that Nayeon would be there, just a few feet away. It was a simple connection, but it felt so much more than that. Even now, after all this time, Mina still felt the same way. The way she had fallen for Nayeon had never wavered, not even in the face of everything they had been through. It was as if time had stood still, and no matter how much had changed around them, the love they shared remained constant, a tether that kept them together despite the growing distance.

Mina pulled her phone from her pocket, her thumb swiping across the screen. She had seen the picture of the Hirai family before, but today, it felt different. Her eyes lingered on the image, particularly on one person. It had been years since she had saved that picture, and it had remained on her phone as a secret, something she could never fully let go of. She had kept it hidden from Nayeon, unsure of how to explain the connection, the strange twist of fate that had brought them into each other’s lives. And now, with Nayeon so deeply involved with the Hirai family, the world seemed smaller, the weight of it all heavier. Mina wondered how long she could keep this secret, how long she could keep pretending that everything was okay when the truth seemed poised to unravel at any moment.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the elevator doors opened, the cold breeze from outside sweeping in as she stepped out. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and made her way to her car, the familiar sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet hall. The city was waking up, the streets beginning to hum with activity. The air was crisp, and Mina could feel it against her skin, the chill that reminded her of the passing seasons. She reached her car and slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar comfort of it wrapping around her like a second skin. She turned the key, and the engine hummed to life, the soft glow of the car’s display lighting up the interior.

Mina tapped the screen on the dashboard, selecting a song to play, and as the soft melody filled the car, she exhaled, letting herself be pulled into the music. It was the kind of song that wrapped itself around her heart, filling the empty space that Nayeon’s absence had left behind. For a moment, she allowed herself to just listen, to let the music carry her away from her thoughts. But even as the melody played, she knew that it wouldn’t be long before the reality of everything—the truth, the secrets, the weight of their complicated lives—would come crashing back down on her. Until then, she drove, allowing the road to take her wherever it led.

Mina arrived at the bustling market, carefully pulling her car to a stop along the side of the road. She turned off the engine and exhaled, taking a brief moment to collect herself before stepping out into the chaotic scene. Her gaze swept over the lively street, filled with vendors shouting prices, customers haggling, and children weaving through the crowd with playful laughter. It was the kind of energy that could either overwhelm or invigorate, but for Mina, it was simply routine. She reached for her belongings, making sure her keys and phone were secure before locking the car doors behind her.

The air was crisp, carrying a blend of scents—freshly baked bread, ripe fruits, and the faint tang of fish from a distant stall. Mina adjusted the eco-bags in her hand, folding them neatly as she made her way toward the market. She headed to the fruit stalls first, selecting apples with a bright sheen and a few perfectly plump oranges. From there, she moved to the vegetable section, her hands hovering briefly before settling on leafy greens that looked the freshest. She mentally checked off her list as she filled her bags, her movements brisk and efficient.

After purchasing a generous cut of meat, Mina finally felt the strain in her arms. The weight of her groceries was starting to take its toll. She scanned the area and spotted a wooden bench nestled between two stalls. Taking careful steps to avoid the bustling crowd, she made her way over, placing the heavy bags down with a relieved sigh. Her shoulders relaxed as she sank onto the bench, leaning back slightly and letting the midday sun warm her face.

For a few moments, Mina allowed herself to simply breathe, her eyes drifting across the market as it began to settle. The crowd had thinned slightly, and the sounds of chatter and bartering were now interspersed with moments of calm. Her gaze fell on her bags, now brimming with everything she needed, and she felt a small sense of accomplishment.

When she finally stood to leave, Mina adjusted the bags and prepared to head back to her car. But just as her hands reached for the handles, another hand darted in, lifting the bags with surprising ease. Startled, Mina turned quickly and grabbed the person’s wrist, ready to confront them.

“Hey—” Her voice faltered as she froze, recognition sweeping over her like a wave. The woman standing before her was both startlingly familiar and completely unexpected. Doe-like eyes framed by dark lashes stared back at her, accompanied by a playful, knowing smile.

“Long time no see, hmm? Son Mina,” Momo said, her tone teasing yet warm. She adjusted the bags in her hands with an air of casual confidence, the weight barely registering in her posture. “Where’s your car? Let’s go, pengie,” she added without waiting for Mina’s reply. Turning on her heel, Momo began walking away as though their encounter was the most natural thing in the world.

Mina remained rooted to the spot, her thoughts struggling to catch up. The sight of Momo, after all these years, was jarring in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Just this morning, she had stared at a photo of her, a snapshot of a past Mina had tried to keep hidden. Now, here Momo was, as vivid and alive as the memories Mina had buried.

“Hey, pengie!” Momo called, turning back with a wide grin when she noticed Mina hadn’t moved. She raised the bags slightly, feigning strain. “You don’t want my hands to get ruined, right?” she teased, her tone light and playful.

“Momo…” Mina whispered, the name escaping her lips like a secret she hadn’t meant to share. Something inside her shifted as she met Momo’s gaze—a mix of disbelief, nostalgia, and something else she couldn’t quite name.

Momo softened, her teasing tone giving way to something more sincere. “Come on, pengie,” she urged gently. Mina hesitated for a heartbeat before stepping forward, her movements slow but deliberate as she closed the distance between them. With each step, she felt the weight in her chest lighten, though the world around her seemed to grow heavier with unspoken words.

As soon as they reached the car, Mina moved with quiet efficiency. She popped the trunk, her movements quick and precise as Momo began loading the groceries inside. Once the bags were arranged, Mina closed the trunk with a soft thud and strode purposefully toward the driver’s side. She opened the front door, her gaze flicking to Momo, only to find the latter staring at her with an amused expression.

“Woah,” Momo drawled, her grin teasing as she leaned casually against the car, arms crossing over her chest. “Still got the habit, huh, penguin? Didn’t think you’d be so bold, inviting me into your car. Is this how you greet an old friend these days?”

Mina froze, her hand tightening slightly on the door handle as heat crept up her neck. Caught off guard, she cleared her throat, mentally chastising herself for falling into old habits. “Ah… sorry,” she muttered, stepping back from the open door and gently shutting it. “I just assumed you were coming with me.”

“Well, I’d love to,” Momo replied with a playful shrug, “but maybe next time. My driver’s waiting for me.” Her tone was light, but her gaze lingered on Mina with a softness that belied her teasing words.

Mina, however, couldn’t ignore the curiosity that had been simmering in her mind since she’d spotted Momo on the bench. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you hated crowded places.”

Momo chuckled, running a hand through her hair as her posture relaxed. “I do. My nanny needed some fruits for tonight, so I tagged along. Didn’t expect to see you, though.” Her voice softened, the edges of her grin easing into something more genuine. She took a step closer, her gaze warm. “But seeing you here… it’s a nice surprise.”

Before Mina could respond, Momo placed her hands lightly on her shoulders, her expression tender as a small smile tugged at her lips. “I missed you, pengie.” Without hesitation, she pulled Mina into a hug, her arms wrapping securely around her as she rested her chin on Mina’s shoulder.

The world seemed to quiet around them—the hum of passing conversations fading, the chill of the breeze brushing past them unnoticed. For a moment, it felt as if they were suspended in a fragile bubble of familiarity and forgotten warmth. But Mina was the first to break the silence, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

“But you left, Momo,” she said, her words sharp with the sting of old wounds. She pulled back from the embrace, her eyes glistening as she met Momo’s gaze. “You left without saying goodbye. You didn’t visit, didn’t write, didn’t call. For eight years, I waited. And now you’re telling me you missed me?”

Momo’s playful demeanor faltered, her smile fading as she dropped her hands. She laughed bitterly, her gaze falling to the ground. “I guess what I did was stupid. I hurt you.”

“Yes, it was stupid,” Mina shot back, her voice rising with frustration. “Do you know how many nights I wondered if I’d done something wrong? If I’d driven you away somehow? And now you just show up like nothing’s changed—like I didn’t spend years waiting for you to come back!”

“No, Mina.” Momo’s voice was steady, her words soft but resolute as she looked up to meet Mina’s watery eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me. I’m sorry.” She reached out, her fingers brushing the air between them, but before she could touch her, another voice cut through the moment.

“Ms. Hirai,” a firm, stoic tone interrupted, drawing both their attention. A man in a sleek black suit stood a few feet away, his posture rigid. “Your father needs to speak with you immediately.”

Momo swore under her breath, her jaw tightening as she glanced at the man with thinly veiled irritation. Of all the times for Suho to show up, it had to be now. She nodded curtly, gesturing for him to leave. As he turned and walked away, she mumbled, “Suho really knows how to ruin a moment.”

When she turned back to Mina, she found the other woman already moving, retreating toward the driver’s seat with purposeful strides. “You should go. I have to leave,” Mina said, her tone clipped, her back turned. Before Momo could get a word in, Mina had started the car and driven off without looking back.

Momo stood there for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the distance. She placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head with a dry laugh. “What the… Well, I missed me too,” she muttered, a crooked smile playing on her lips despite the ache in her chest. 

“I’ll negotiate with them.” Sana’s voice was sharp and cold, slicing through the air like the edge of a blade. Her expression betrayed nothing as she sat upright, facing her father and the gathered stockholders of the Hirai Corporation. She radiated confidence, the room bending subtly under the weight of her authority. “The Parks may think they can stand on their own, but I’ll make them realize they need us.”

Her father leaned forward, fingers interlaced, his tone hesitant but cautious. “Darling, my daughter… isn’t the Park family and ImTech at odds in business? Given our partnership with ImTech, pursuing this could be risky. If the public were to find out—”

Sana’s gaze hardened as she raised a hand to silence him. “I’ll negotiate with them silently,” she stated, her words crisp, brooking no argument. “What I need is information—specifically on the eldest daughter. She’s the one they all seem to fear.”

Before anyone could respond, another voice broke the tension, light and mocking. “Seducing the Parks’ eldest daughter, huh? That’s bold, even for you.”

Momo strolled into the room, an amused smirk playing on her lips as she flopped onto the sofa beside Sana, completely unbothered by her sister’s glare.

“And why are you here?” Sana snapped, her voice laced with irritation.

“Well, Dad called me in the middle of something very important,” Momo replied with a shrug. “But now I hear you’re plotting to—”

“Shut up, Momo,” Sana interrupted with an eye roll, her exasperation palpable. “It’s not seduction. It’s strategy.”

“Oh, strategy,” Momo said, drawing out the word as she leaned back and folded her arms, clearly enjoying herself.

Across the coffee table, one of the stockholders spoke up cautiously, their tone wary of Sana’s wrath. “What exactly is this strategy, Ms. Hirai?”

“It’s personal,” Sana replied curtly, shifting her piercing gaze toward the speaker. “What I need from you is simple: gather all available information on the Parks. Particularly the eldest daughter—she seems to hold the reins of their operations.”

As she rose to her feet, the room seemed to hold its breath, her commanding presence leaving no room for objections.

“Well, that’s it?” Momo teased, standing as well. “Here I thought it was something serious—”

The warning glare Sana shot her was enough to silence her. Momo raised her hands in mock surrender.

Sana’s attention shifted back to the room. “I want everything you can find on my desk by tomorrow morning. Use every resource at your disposal—no excuses.” Her tone left no room for negotiation. Without another word, she turned and strode toward the door, the sharp echo of it slamming shut behind her punctuating her authority.

For a moment, the room remained silent, even her father choosing to remain quiet—a rare display of deference in the presence of his headstrong daughter.

Momo, however, wasn’t about to let it go. She hurried after Sana, her strides quick as she spotted her sister walking down the corridor. “Sana!” she called out, grabbing her arm to stop her.

Sana paused, her expression flickering with something almost imperceptible—fear, uncertainty—before it hardened once more.

“What are you doing?” Momo asked, her voice low but urgent. “Does this have to do with Nayeon? Are you dragging her into this?”

For a moment, Sana hesitated, the weight of Momo’s question pressing down on her. Then, she exhaled softly, her voice quieter but firm. “I’ll explain everything when the time is right. For now, just trust me.”

Her hand moved to gently remove Momo’s grip on her arm. She walked away with measured steps, leaving Momo rooted to the spot.

Momo didn’t call after her this time. She simply stood there, watching Sana’s retreating figure disappear into the shadows of the Hirai estate. For the first time in a long while, Momo couldn’t shake the feeling that her sister wasn’t just planning something ambitious—she was walking straight into the lion’s den.

Her spiraling thoughts were abruptly interrupted when someone collided into her, sending her a step back. Instinctively, Momo hissed, a string of sharp words escaping her lips before she even looked up. “Watch where you’re going, bitch—”

But the rest of her sentence evaporated as she glanced up and froze. The person standing before her was all too familiar.

“Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?” Jeongyeon’s voice was soft, tinged with genuine concern. She took a step forward, her hand lifting slightly as though to steady Momo or check for injury.

Momo’s chest tightened. The last time they had crossed paths flashed vividly in her mind, and with it came a wave of embarrassment so strong it burned at the tips of her ears. Without thinking, she stepped back, avoiding Jeongyeon’s outstretched hand.

“Ah, no, no. It’s fine!” Momo waved her hands dismissively, her laughter coming out strained and awkward. She was suddenly hyper aware of everything—her posture, her voice, even the way her fingers fidgeted against the hem of her blazer. “No harm done, really.”

Jeongyeon’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face at Momo’s odd behavior. “Are you sure? I wasn’t really looking where I was going—”

“It’s fine!” Momo blurted out, a bit too loudly, earning her a few sideways glances from passing employees. She forced a laugh, the sound hollow and unconvincing even to herself. “Anyway, uh, what are you doing here?”

Jeongyeon tilted her head slightly, as if trying to read Momo’s sudden shift in demeanor, but chose not to comment on it. “Mr. Hirai contacted me,” she explained. Her voice was calm, yet her eyes carried a hint of confusion. “He said he needed to meet with me about something important.”

Momo’s stomach dropped, a heavy weight settling in her gut. Is this why my father called me here? To arrange a marriage with her? Her thoughts raced, her imagination conjuring worst-case scenarios faster than she could process them. No. There’s no way. I’m still enjoying my single era! He wouldn’t—

Jeongyeon’s steady gaze brought Momo crashing back to the present. She plastered on a smile—bright, wide, and entirely fake. “Oh! That’s… great! Yeah, he’s probably, uh… got something business-y to talk about, I guess?” Her voice wavered slightly, her attempt at nonchalance doing little to mask her inner turmoil.

Jeongyeon gave her a faint smile, nodding slowly as though she hadn’t fully bought Momo’s casual act but chose not to press further. “Well, I guess I should get going then. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Y-yeah! Sure. Of course. You should—uh, you should go!” Momo stepped aside hurriedly, gesturing toward the hallway. “Wouldn’t want to be late, right? Hirai time and all that.”

Jeongyeon hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on Momo as if debating whether to say more. But after a beat, she simply nodded and walked away, her steps echoing faintly down the corridor.

As soon as Jeongyeon disappeared around the corner, Momo released a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hand flew to her chest, as if to steady the rapid beating of her heart.

“What the hell was that?” she muttered under her breath, her face buried in her hands. This day had officially gone from confusing to outright chaotic.

By mid-afternoon, Sana’s car slowed to a stop in front of the house, the sleek engine purring briefly before going silent. She thanked the driver with a polite nod and stepped out, the winter air crisp against her skin. Her gaze shifted instinctively to the other car parked on the side of the driveway—a vehicle she knew all too well.

Nayeon’s.

Sana felt her chest tighten, a rush of emotions battling within her. She hadn’t expected to see Nayeon here, not after the cutting words exchanged between them earlier. Yet there was her car, silently parked as if waiting, its presence both surprising and unnerving. With a deep breath, she forced herself forward, her heels clicking softly against the pavement.

The house greeted her with its familiar stillness as she stepped inside, closing the door with deliberate care. The air was silent, thick with an unspoken tension she couldn't shake. Everything was in its usual place—neat, organized, untouched. Sana’s eyes flicked upstairs toward Nayeon’s room, the door to which was slid shut.

A sigh escaped her lips, heavy and resigned. She turned her focus to the kitchen, the subtle gnaw of hunger reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since morning. Sana began rummaging through the pantry and refrigerator, pulling out ingredients with the quiet efficiency of someone trying to distract herself. She worked methodically, chopping, stirring, seasoning—making enough for two without consciously deciding to. The thought of Nayeon not having eaten lingered unbidden in her mind.

Upstairs, Nayeon lay sprawled on her bed, her arm draped over her forehead as she stared at the ceiling. Her father’s harsh words and her argument with Sana replayed like a broken record, each replay stabbing deeper than the last. She hated how vividly she remembered Sana’s expression—wounded, vulnerable, but steadfast.

That expression haunted her.

A pang of guilt stirred in her chest, twisting uncomfortably. She knew her words had cut too deep, but pride—stubborn, relentless pride—held her back from apologizing. Her father’s manipulations were one thing, but the Hirais… they had upended her life entirely. How could she feel sorry for someone tied to her misery?

But the memory of Sana’s warning tugged at her thoughts, an elusive thread she couldn’t fully grasp. Don’t trust him, Sana had said, her voice desperate. Why? What did Sana know that she didn’t?

Nayeon sighed heavily and pushed herself upright. She scanned the room, her gaze pausing on the door. She wasn’t sure why she had come here—why this house had felt like the place to retreat to when she could have gone to Mina or her private penthouse. It was a decision that puzzled even her.

The faint sounds of clicking and sizzling drew her attention. Her brows furrowed as she stood, stepping toward the door and unlocking it quietly. The sounds grew louder as she descended the staircase, each step deliberate, hesitant.

From the landing, she caught sight of Sana in the kitchen, her back turned as she worked. Sana wore an apron over her blouse, her hair tied into a loose bun with a few strands framing her face. Nayeon froze, her hand gripping the railing. There was a strange serenity in the scene before her, an intimacy that felt undeserved.

For a moment, she stood there, watching Sana move with quiet focus. But when Sana began to turn, Nayeon pivoted sharply and feigned heading toward the door.

“Have you eaten?”

The question rang out, soft yet startling, echoing in the quiet space like a ripple in still water.

Nayeon halted, her hand hovering near the doorknob. The weight of Sana’s voice seemed to press on her, heavier than she’d like to admit. She didn’t turn around, didn’t dare meet Sana’s gaze.

“I did,” she replied curtly, her voice cold, distant—armor against the storm of emotions threatening to surface. It was a lie, of course. Her stomach twisted in protest, but the idea of sharing a meal with Sana felt unbearable.

Without another word, Nayeon pushed open the door and stepped outside, the chill of the afternoon air biting at her skin.

Sana stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the door that had just closed. The words she wanted to say remained trapped in her throat, swallowed by the ache in her chest. She hadn’t expected Nayeon to stay, but the sting of her departure was sharper than she anticipated.

Still, as the silence returned, Sana whispered a quiet wish to the empty room.

“Be safe, Nayeon.”