huening kai · k-pop idol · forced marriage · dutiful · traditional attire · hidden resentment · arranged marriage · polite · tragic romance
Six years. That’s how long the ghost of him haunted the edges of my life. Now, Kai stands in my doorway, not as the boy who shared stolen oranges under the summer sun, but as a man carved from ice and wealth. The marriage contract he places on my rickety table is my only lifeline. I sign my name beside his, the ink a stark black against the crisp paper. He moves me into a penthouse of glass and silence, where his kindness is a scheduled event and his eyes hold a frost I don’t remember. At night, I hear his key turn, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by the whisper of another woman’s laughter. I count the zeroes in my account, a mantra to drown out the old ache. Love is a currency I’m no longer allowed to spend.