~The Heart He Never Let Go Of You never thought love would feel this lonely. Sitting at the long dining table surrounded by his elegant family, you could feel the air grow heavy with unspoken judgment. Every smile was fake, every word sharpened to wound. It wasn’t new—they never liked you. To them, you were the girl who didn’t belong, the mistake he married. But what made tonight unbearable was her—the ex-girlfriend who still moved through his family home like she owned it. Cameras flashed, laughter echoed, and every joke was a blade disguised as charm. “Some women really think love can buy class,” she said sweetly, and the table erupted in polite laughter. Your fingers curled in your lap, holding back tears. He said nothing—only sat beside you in cold silence, unreadable. For a moment, you doubted him. Maybe he didn’t care anymore. Maybe you were just a name on his ring. But then, beneath the table, his hand brushed yours—steady, grounding. His eyes met yours briefly, and in that single look, you remembered who you were to him. They didn’t know the man who stayed up through your fevers, who held you through nightmares. They could take everything else—but not the heart that already belonged to you.

~Mafia You had always known he was cold, but you never thought he would be this ruthless. Every look from him was sharp, calculated, as if he was dissecting every move you made. Being his wife hadn’t softened him, hadn’t changed the way he dealt with people—or with you. To the world, he was the man no one dared to cross, a mafia king whose name alone made people tremble. To you, he was both husband and stranger, someone who gave you a ring but kept his heart locked behind iron walls. Women whispered about him, threw themselves at him, desperate to be seen, desperate to be wanted. You watched them try—again and again—testing their luck in front of you, thinking maybe he’d bend. But he never did. He would always turn them away, not with kindness, but with the same cruelty that both terrified and protected you. That night, when another woman tried her chance—slipping too close, too bold—you thought he might ignore it. Instead, he cut the air with words that shattered every illusion around him, words that left no room for doubt about where you stood in his life. It wasn’t affection in his voice, not tenderness—but something far more merciless. And yet, beneath that cruelty, you felt the sharp sting of a truth no one else would ever dare to believe: that you were the only one he would allow, the only one he would keep, whether you liked it or not.

~COOK Life with a mafia husband was nothing short of unpredictable—days were painted with danger, nights were filled with tension, and yet somewhere in between, you found glimpses of something that felt almost normal. The man feared across the city, whose name sent rivals trembling and allies bowing, was the same man who shared a roof with you. Jungwon was ruthless in meetings, calculated with his men, and merciless to those who dared cross him. You had seen his hands stained with blood, his voice command silence, his eyes turn cold as stone. But tonight was different. Tonight, instead of orchestrating chaos, he stood in your kitchen, shirt discarded carelessly on a chair, the soft glow of the overhead light brushing against his bare skin. The sizzle of garlic in the pan filled the air, a sound so ordinary that it almost felt foreign in your world. His broad shoulders moved with ease as he stirred the pan, his muscles flexing beneath the golden light, each motion precise and controlled like everything else he did. You leaned against the doorway, unsure whether to laugh at the absurdity of it or to stare in awe. This was the man people called a monster, the one everyone feared—and yet here he was, cooking dinner like an ordinary husband. And maybe that was what shook you the most: not the power he held outside, but the intimacy of seeing him stripped of it inside, shirtless and barefoot, humming lowly under his breath as though violence had never touched him.

~BRUISE You thought the bruise would stay your secret. Small, easily explained—an accidental bump, a careless turn—anything to stop the questions. You wore long sleeves, practiced hollow smiles, and convinced yourself you were protecting something only you could understand: your dignity, your pride, the terrible independence you’d clung to when nobody else would help. Jungwon watched you, though. He noticed the way you flinched when doors closed, the extra careful way you set your cup down, the way you hid your wrist when guests came by. He didn’t ask. He didn’t accuse. He collected details with the cold patience of a man used to having the whole chessboard in his head. Then one day the silence broke—not with shouting, but with the quiet arrival of someone who understood how to dig up truths without drama. Photographs. Times. Names. Proof you’d traded pieces of yourself to keep your life together when options ran out. When he read the files, his face didn’t melt into pity. It hardened. Not because you’d been broken, but because you hadn’t told him. In his world, secrets were liabilities. In his hands, shame became fuel. He returned with a presence that rearranged the air: less the soft husband and more the man whose world accepted no trespass on what was his. You learned, in the space between his measured steps and his unreadable stare, that protection from him would come at a cost of surrender.

~BET You thought it would be harmless—a simple bet with the one person you couldn’t stand. He was smug, arrogant, and always seemed to get under your skin, but you were confident this time. You’d finally wipe that grin off his face. But when the final tally sealed your loss, his smirk only grew sharper. The weight of defeat sank into your chest, and you instantly regretted underestimating him. He didn’t even gloat with words at first; his silence was heavier, more dangerous. You could see it in his eyes—the thrill of victory wasn’t enough. He wanted something more. Something that would humiliate you, shatter your pride, and remind you of your place.

~BET You thought it would be harmless—a simple bet with the one person you couldn’t stand. He was smug, arrogant, and always seemed to get under your skin, but you were confident this time. You’d finally wipe that grin off his face. But when the final tally sealed your loss, his smirk only grew sharper. The weight of defeat sank into your chest, and you instantly regretted underestimating him. He didn’t even gloat with words at first; his silence was heavier, more dangerous. You could see it in his eyes—the thrill of victory wasn’t enough. He wanted something more. Something that would humiliate you, shatter your pride, and remind you of your place.

~DATING THE HEARTTHROB He was the untouchable school heartthrob—the one every girl dreamed of, the one every boy envied, the one teachers praised without hesitation. To the world, he was golden, perfect, and far beyond anyone’s reach. To you, he was dangerous, because he was yours. No one knew about the late-night rendezvous, the stolen kisses in dark hallways, the way he slipped into your room after midnight and left before dawn. Loving him wasn’t allowed; it wasn’t supposed to happen. He belonged to the spotlight, adored by everyone, while you were meant to stay invisible. Yet, he never let you go. Every brush of his hand under the desk, every fleeting look across the classroom, every smirk when someone else tried to get his attention—it all reminded you of the dangerous truth. If anyone found out, the chaos would be merciless. But still, he whispered promises into your skin, swore that he’d never let anyone else touch you, and claimed you in ways that no one else would ever see. Loving him was a secret, yes—but it was also a trap, one you couldn’t bring yourself to escape.

~Arrange marriage Marriage was supposed to be a promise of safety, of belonging—but for you, it felt like a sentence. You had been bound, against your will, to the one man you swore you would never trust. He was your enemy in every sense: sharp-tongued, arrogant, merciless in every exchange. For years, your lives had been tangled in rivalry, each encounter ending in raised voices and narrowed glares. When your parents sealed the deal with a marriage contract, you thought the ground might open beneath you. Worse still, he wasn’t even yours to claim. He already had someone—a girlfriend he made no effort to hide. She was his comfort, his real choice, the one he smiled for in ways he never smiled for you. And yet, you were the one forced to wear his ring, the one expected to stand by his side as though your marriage was real. Every dinner was laced with silence, every shared glance a reminder that you were nothing more than an unwanted replacement. The cruelest irony was that despite your hatred, his presence filled every corner of your life now. His voice echoed through the same halls you walked, his scent lingered in the same rooms you slept. No matter how much you despised him, you couldn’t escape him. And deep down, you feared that one day, you might stop wanting to.

~pregnant Life with him was like walking on the edge of a blade—sharp, dangerous, and unforgiving. He was your husband, your supposed protector, but his temper had always been a shadow that loomed too close. Tonight, that shadow consumed him. One lie—small, desperate, meant to avoid another fight—set him off. His hand came down before you could breathe, the sting exploding across your cheek as you stumbled backward. Your foot caught the edge of the carpet, and you crashed to the floor with a thud that rattled your bones. Pain shot through you, sharper this time, low in your abdomen. When you tried to move, warmth spread beneath you—red staining the floorboards, your trembling fingers, everything. You weren’t just hurt. You were bleeding. Your breath came shallow, panic rising faster than his rage had. His eyes widened, not out of guilt but confusion, as though he hadn’t connected the pieces yet. But you had. Every drop was a warning that the child inside you—the secret you hadn’t even found the courage to tell him—was slipping away. The slap had been meant for you, punishment for your mistake, but it had struck where it hurt most: the fragile life you carried. For the first time, fear wasn’t for yourself—it was for the tiny heartbeat that might already be fading inside you. And he, the man you trusted once, had no idea.

~The arrogant husband Marriage was supposed to be a shield, a promise of partnership and safety. But with Jungwon, it became a chain. Everyone believed you were the luckiest girl alive—married to the most brilliant, intimidating professor on campus. They whispered about favoritism, about how easy your academic life must be. But what they didn’t see was the reality—Jungwon’s arrogance knew no boundaries, and his pride refused to let your marriage weaken his authority. To him, you weren’t a wife in the classroom—you were a student, and students had no privileges. In fact, he demanded more from you than from anyone else, scrutinizing every mistake like it was a personal betrayal. He wanted you to stumble so he could remind you of your place. His power didn’t lie in affection, but in control—and he wielded it mercilessly. At home, his coldness burned. At school, his dominance was suffocating. You were trapped in a game where your heart begged for love, but all he offered was a constant reminder that he owned you—in every space, in every breath, in every choice you tried to make.

~Your ex husband and professor You hadn’t expected him to follow you home. The walk from campus to your bedroom had been supposed to be your escape, a thin thread of peace away from the suffocating weight of his presence. But the door had barely closed before you felt it—the shift in the air as he stepped inside, uninvited but inevitable. He didn’t bother to announce himself; he never needed to. His presence alone was enough to make your breath stumble. Then his eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade, catching on something you’d failed to erase. The faint trace clung to the room, unmistakable—masculine, intrusive, not yours. His silence dragged, cold and suffocating, before his gaze pinned you in place. You reached for the first excuse that came, reckless in its fragility. But deep down you knew he would see through it, because he had always known every truth you tried to bury.

The Night We Crossed the Line It was supposed to be harmless—a sleepover with your best friend, laughter echoing in the dim glow of the TV, empty snack bags scattered across the floor. You’d done this countless times before, yet this night felt different. The way he kept stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking, the subtle shift in his voice when your knees brushed—everything carried a weight it never had before. You tried to ignore the strange tension curling in your chest, convincing yourself it was nothing more than your imagination. But when silence replaced laughter, and his eyes lingered a little too long on your lips, the air between you thickened into something unspoken, something dangerous. Neither of you moved at first, both caught in the gravity of a moment that couldn’t be undone. And then, almost as if pulled by instinct, the distance disappeared.

~Cruel punishment Marriage to Jungwon was never simple—it was a constant tug-of-war between your heart and his pride. At home, he ruled with silence sharper than any blade, and arguments always ended the same way: you in tears, him walking away as if he hadn’t been touched at all. Last night was worse than usual. Words were thrown like knives, cutting deep, and when you reached for him, begging him to stay, he left you standing alone in the dark. By morning, the weight of the fight still lingered in your chest, but you told yourself class would be different. Surely, he’d separate husband from professor. Surely, he wouldn’t bring that same coldness into a room full of watching eyes. You were wrong. The moment you walked into the lecture hall, his gaze brushed past you as though you were nothing more than another nameless student. He didn’t pause, didn’t acknowledge, didn’t give you the smallest sign of familiarity. Every question he asked, every glance he threw, landed on others—never you. Students whispered, curious why their strict professor overlooked the one person he usually watched the closest. The humiliation burned worse than the fight itself, because this wasn’t just his silence as your husband. This was his punishment, delivered ruthlessly in front of them all.