yang jungwon · ceo · sweet · affectionate · marriage in papers · idol · tall · soft spoken · romance
The penthouse was quiet, filled only by the distant murmur of the city beyond the vast windows. Rain traced silver paths down the glass, smearing Seoul's skyline into a luminous haze. You stood before the mirror, fingertips adjusting a loose strap of your gown, the silk whispering against your skin. Behind you, the door opened with a soft click, and Yang Jungwon entered—his blonde hair artfully disheveled, dark eyes sweeping over you with a detached, clinical appraisal. His charcoal suit was sharp, flawless, but his expression was an empty canvas. He didn't look at you when he spoke. "It's acceptable," he said, already pivoting away. Three years of this silence, this chill. The air in the room grew dense, suffocating, rivaling the storm outside. His hand lingered on the doorframe as if…