When I got back home, the first thing I did was throw my bag on the couch and faceplant into my pillow.
"I am never doing that again." I said into the pillow, muffled.
Spying hurts. Not just your feet, but your heart.
I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Joonseo didn't say anything to Yuna about us. Nothing. Not even a hint. No "Sorry, I'm married", no "My wife will kill me if she sees us together"—just silence and espresso.
Did he even want to keep this marriage a secret, or was I the secret?
I sat up and decided I couldn't sit around looking like a rejected extra from a sad drama.
I changed into my softest pajama pants, tied my hair into the messiest bun in Korea, and marched into the kitchen.
If I couldn't have peace, I'd at least have dinner.
I pulled out every ingredient that screamed "comfort food." Spaghetti, kimchi pancakes, chocolate pudding, and rice wrapped in seaweed—I was going full MasterChef Minji.
Let's make it feel like a home again
I set the table beautifully. Candles. Napkins. Even that fancy chopstick holder we never use. I cleaned the living room, fluffed the pillows, even turned on soft jazz. Romantic jazz, not dramatic jazz.
Then I looked at the clock.
He was late.
Of course.
I sat at the table, waiting, poking the spaghetti like it was him.
Finally—the sound of keys at the door.
I sat up straight like a student in front of the principal.
The door opened and in walked Mr. Husband. Coat on his arm. Hair slightly messy. Tie loosened. He looked good. I hated that he looked good.
He saw the table. Then he saw me.
"Oh..." he said, surprised. "Did we have a plan for dinner?"
"No," I said. "I just cooked for fun. Thought I'd try pretending we're a normal married couple tonight."
He got the message.
He walked in slowly, putting down his things, watching me.
"Minji," he started.
"Don't," I said, standing. "Don't say anything yet. Just eat. And sit. Before I pour this spaghetti on your expensive shirt."
He raised his hands like surrender and sat down.
We ate in silence for a bit.
Then he finally spoke. "You followed us."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
He smirked. "Your lemon cake and espresso showed up on my bill."
I froze. "...traitor waiter."
He chuckled softly.
I dropped my fork. "Fine. Yes. I did. I followed you. I wanted to know if you'd tell her."
He didn't deny it. He didn't defend it.
"You didn't tell her," I said.
He sighed. "It's not the right time."
"Then when?" I said. "When it's convenient? Or when she's already booked our honeymoon suite for you?"
"That's not fair," he said quietly.
I stood up and looked at him.
"You say I'm your wife, but you keep hiding me like I'm some secret."
"I'm not hiding you."
"Then what am I, Joonseo?"
He looked at me, eyes tired, but soft.
"You're everything I'm afraid to lose," he said. "And that's exactly why... I don't know how to say it the right way yet. I'm not ready to make a mess."
I looked at him—hurt, confused, but quiet.
"So I just keep pretending?" I said.
He walked over. Held my hands.
"Minji… I'm still figuring out how to protect this. Us. Without destroying everything else around it."
I didn't know what to say, so I just sighed. "Fine. But if I find another girl calling you 'Joonseo' like you're her personal boyfriend, I will go full Minji mode."
He smiled. "What's that?"
"You'll see," I said, walking back to the kitchen.
"Wait—can we eat dessert together first?" he asked, smiling a little.
I rolled my eyes, grabbed the pudding, and tossed him a spoon.
"Don't push your luck, Mr. Secret Husband."
He just laughed and pulled me closer anyway and Kissed me.
------
The next morning, I woke up before him. Not on purpose — my stomach was just growling like it had beef with me for not eating the chocolate pudding last night.
I tiptoed around the huge, fancy house like a detective on a diamond floor. It was silent, spotless, and smelled like rich-people lavender.
I didn't want to wake the CEO-Husband-Who-Still-Hasn't-Told-Anyone-He's-Married.
I washed up, dressed in my sharpest assistant outfit, added a bit of eyeliner — not too much, just enough to say "I'm emotionally unavailable but professionally terrifying."
By the time I was done, he was still asleep, arm dangling off the bed like a lazy golden retriever.
"Hmph." I mumbled. "I should leave a sticky note that says 'Your wife went to work. Don't forget you have one.'"
But instead, I just grabbed my bag and slipped out of the marble palace like a spy with a broken heart.
I reached the office, powered up my computer, and sipped my extra large iced Americano with the energy of a woman who's trying to stay emotionally numb through caffeine.
Then—
"Good morning."
Ugh. Him.
Joonseo walked in. Suit crisp. Tie straight. Hair like he walked off a shampoo commercial.
He gave me a small nod, walked straight to his office, and went inside like nothing ever happened.
I avoided eye contact.
"Minji," he said casually before closing the door behind him.
"Yes, Mr. Joonseo," I replied with the enthusiasm of a wet tissue.
He paused at the door, like he wanted to say something else… but didn't. Door: closed.
I exhaled. Dramatically.
Then, ding.
Enter Jiho, the second assistant, holding a tablet and looking like he ran a marathon with zero coffee.
"Did he ask for me?" he whispered.
"No. But go say good morning before he forgets you exist," I said, not even glancing up.
Jiho sighed and trudged inside.
From behind, I heard soft footsteps.
Enter Nakyung, holding her coffee like a microphone. "I need to breathe the same air as this drama."
Before I could respond, the elevator dinged.
And there she was.
Yuna.
Wearing white. Glossy lips. Walked in like she was shooting a perfume ad.
"Oh my God," whispered Nakyung. "She's back."
I nearly choked on my coffee.
She walked straight toward me.
"Oh, you're here," she said like I was a potted plant she didn't order.
"Lucky me," I said with a tight smile.
She turned her eyes toward the glass doors of Joonseo's office. "Is he inside?"
"Yes. With work. Which you don't have," I said.
She blinked. "Actually, I do have an appointment," she said, flipping her hair like she practiced this in a mirror.
I narrowed my eyes. "Funny, I manage all his appointments and I didn't see Yuna the Homewrecker on the list."
"Can you just inform him?" she said, brushing past me like she owned the air in the room.
Before I could stop her—
The office door opened.
Out came Jiho, tablet in hand, looking half-dazed and 100% awkward as usual.
Yuna turned immediately. "Oh, Jiho, I have an appointment with Mr. Joonseo. Can I go in?"
Jiho blinked, clueless. "Oh… uh… if you have an appointment then… sure, go ahead."
I gasped slightly. "Jiho—!"
Too late.
Yuna gave me the smuggest look and strutted past, her heels tapping like they were clapping for her.
She walked right into Joonseo's office without knocking.
Nakyung leaned in, whispering like a scandalized aunt. "She really just did that."
I buried my face in my hands. "Jiho, why."
"Was she lying?" he whispered, finally realizing.
"Congratulations. You've been used as a human keycard."