Chapter 3: (Aaira's pov)

Dragging the heavy gown behind me, I stumbled on the stairs as I made my way toward the kitchen. Though I caught myself before falling, my heart skipped a beat, a rush of humiliation washing over me even though no one was around to see. The house was eerily empty, the kind of silence that seemed to weigh on my shoulders. Everyone had left, his family, the servants, leaving me alone with Jimin. Alone in a house that didn't feel like mine.

Aaira: Why would they leave me here like this?

I muttered to myself, sighing as I continued toward the kitchen. I had never been in a kitchen before, not to cook, at least. My parents always had staff, and I'd never needed to so much as make tea for myself. Now, as I stood in the large, modern kitchen, with its sleek countertops and sparkling appliances, I felt completely out of place.

The first challenge was the gas stove. I stared at it for a while, trying to figure out how to open the knob. I twisted it one way, then another, but nothing happened. Frustration bubbled inside me. Was this my life now? Struggling with basic tasks while Jimin sat upstairs, uncaring and cold?

Sighing again, I gave up for the moment and made my way back toward the bedroom, hoping maybe I could figure it out later. My gown felt heavier with every step, dragging on the polished wooden floors as if it mirrored the weight in my chest.

When I reached the room, Jimin was sitting on the bed, hunched over his phone. His brow was furrowed, his attention completely absorbed by whatever he was looking at. For a moment, I considered walking past him without a word. But then my thoughts wandered back to the messages I'd seen earlier, the ones from Nekkeoya. Before I could stop myself, I asked.

Aaira: Who are you talking to?

Jimin's movements stilled for a moment before he slowly looked up, his expression dull and unimpressed.

Jimin: Not your concern.

He replied flatly, his tone dismissive. I crossed my arms, standing my ground even though my heart pounded in my chest. I didn't like confrontation, but I needed to know.

Aaira: It is my concern.

I said softly.

Aaira: I'm your wife, Jimin.

At that, his eyes narrowed, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though it was anything but friendly. He set his phone down on the bed and stood, his movements deliberate and slow as he walked toward me.

Jimin: I think you've started to believe you're actually my wife.

He said, his voice laced with mockery.

Jimin: That must be why you think you have the audacity to ask me questions.

I swallowed hard, trying not to flinch as he closed the distance between us.

Jimin: How about.

He continued, his tone turning icy.

Jimin: We remind you of your place?

Before I could react, Jimin grabbed my arm, pushing me toward the door.

Aaira: Jimin, wait...

I started to say, but my words were cut off as he shoved me into the hallway. I stumbled, catching myself on the doorframe as he threw my phone at my feet.

Jimin: Tomorrow.

He said, his voice calm but dripping with disdain.

Jimin: Before I'm up, I want my breakfast on the table. Do you understand?

I stared at him in disbelief, my body frozen in shock. Never in my life had anyone treated me like this. I wasn't just humiliated, I was utterly shattered.

Aaira: Jimin, you can't...

I began, but he slammed the door in my face, cutting me off. The sound reverberated through the empty hall, and I stood there for a long moment, unable to move. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

Picking up my phone, I made my way downstairs. My footsteps echoed in the silence, each one feeling heavier than the last. Reaching the kitchen again, I placed my phone on the countertop and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath.

Aaira: He's so rude.

I muttered to myself, my voice barely above a whisper. Tears pricked my eyes again, but I bit them back, refusing to let Jimin's cruelty break me. I unlocked my phone and typed into the search bar, "How to open a gas knob." A series of videos popped up, and I clicked on the first one.

The cheerful voice of the woman in the tutorial felt like a lifeline in the otherwise overwhelming emptiness of the house. After a few minutes, I managed to turn the knob and ignite the burner, the small flame dancing in front of me. It felt like a tiny victory, but then I realized another problem, I had no idea how to make coffee.

Aaira: Great.

I muttered sarcastically, opening YouTube again. I searched for

"How to make coffee on the stove," and clicked on a video. The instructions seemed simple enough, boil water, add coffee grounds, let it brew. But as I looked around the kitchen, I realized I didn't even know where to find the utensils or ingredients.

I opened cabinet after cabinet, my movements growing more frantic with each one. Plates, glasses, bowls, everything except what I needed. My frustration boiled over, and I slammed one of the cabinet doors shut, the sound echoing loudly in the empty space.

Aaira: This is ridiculous.

I muttered, gripping the edge of the countertop to steady myself. My head was still pounding, and exhaustion was beginning to creep in. But I refused to give up. If Jimin wanted me to prove myself, then I would. Not for him, but for me.

Finally, I found a small container of coffee grounds in a drawer near the sink. I grabbed it along with a pot, measuring out the water as best as I could. The smell of coffee filled the air as it brewed, and for a moment, I allowed myself to feel a small sense of accomplishment.

But as I poured the coffee into a mug, my hands trembled, spilling some onto the countertop. I stared at the mess for a moment, tears welling in my eyes again. This wasn't the life I'd imagined. This wasn't the marriage I'd dreamed of.

I wiped the countertop clean and carried the mug upstairs, my footsteps slow and heavy. When I reached the bedroom, I hesitated outside the door, my hand hovering over the handle. Would he even acknowledge my effort? Or would he dismiss me again?

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Jimin was still on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up briefly as I entered, his expression unreadable.

Aaira: Here.

I said softly, holding out the mug. He took it without a word, his eyes returning to his phone. The silence between us was deafening, but I turned and left the room before it could crush me entirely.

I made my way back to the kitchen, sitting at the table and burying my face in my hands. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions, hurt, anger, humiliation, and a flicker of defiance that refused to be extinguished. No matter how hard Jimin tried to break me, I wouldn't let him.

I sat in the dimly lit kitchen, my elbows resting on the table as silence enveloped me. I couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened tonight, Jimin's coldness, his cruel words. My eyes drifted to my phone lying on the table. The thought of calling Seokjin crossed my mind.

I wrestled with the idea for a while. Should I call him? No, I shouldn't involve him in this. But he's my best friend. He'll know something is wrong if I don't at least check in. I can't let him worry. After what felt like an eternity of debating, I decided to call him. The phone rang once, and Seokjin picked up almost immediately, his voice warm and familiar.

Seokjin: Aaira! Hey! How's my favorite newlywed?

His cheerful tone brought a pang of guilt to my chest. He sounded so happy for me, so trusting that I was living the dream I had always wanted.

Aaira: Hi, Jinnie.

I said, forcing a smile that he couldn't see but might hear in my voice.

Aaira: I'm good. Really good.

Seokjin: That's what I like to hear!

He said, laughing softly.

Seokjin: So, how's married life treating you? Did Jimin sweep you off your feet yet, or is he still that mysterious guy who doesn't say much?

I swallowed hard, willing my voice not to crack.

Aaira: Oh, he's... wonderful.

I said, hating how easily the lie rolled off my tongue.

Aaira: He's been really sweet. The house is beautiful, and your family is amazing. Everything's perfect, really.

Seokjin: Perfect, huh?

Seokjin teased, even though I could hear a hint of sadness in his voice, but I wasn't sure.

Seokjin: You sound like you're living in a fairytale. I'm happy for you, Aaira. You deserve it.

The lump in my throat grew larger. I'd never lied to Seokjin before, and it felt like I was betraying not just him but myself.

Aaira: Thanks.

I murmured, my voice softer now.

Aaira: You've always been so supportive of me.

Seokjin: Of course.

He said.

Seokjin: You're my first love.

Aaira: Ha Ha.

Seokjin: Ha Ha, I just want you to be happy.

Aaira: I am.

I said quickly, desperate to end the conversation before I slipped up.

Aaira: Anyway, it's late. I should let you get some sleep.

Seokjin: Alright.

He said, though his voice was tinged with concern.

Seokjin: But if you ever need anything, you call me, okay? Day or night. Promise me.

Aaira: I promise.

I said, the words feeling heavy as they left my lips.

Aaira: Goodnight, Jin.

Seokjin: Goodnight, Aaira.

I ended the call and placed the phone back on the table, staring at it as if it held all the answers to my problems. My hands went to my head, cradling it as the weight of the night bore down on me. I had never lied to Seokjin before. He'd been my rock, my confidant, and now I was shutting him out.

Aaira: What's wrong with this marriage?

I whispered to the empty room. The words echoed back at me, a cruel reminder that no one was here to answer. The tears came then, hot and unrelenting. I cried for the life I thought I would have, for the love I thought Jimin and I shared, and for the girl I used to be, the one who believed in fairytales and happy endings. I didn't know how long I cried, but eventually, the sobs subsided, leaving me drained and hollow.

Wiping my eyes, I reached for my phone again and set an alarm for 7 a.m. Jimin usually left for the office at 9, which meant I'd have plenty of time to make his breakfast. It would be my first attempt, and though the thought filled me with apprehension, I was determined to try. If this was my life now, I had to figure out how to navigate it.

After setting the alarm, I opened my gallery, scrolling through old photos. My thumb paused over an album labeled "Us." It was filled with pictures of Jimin and me from when we were dating, back when everything felt simple and magical.

There was one of us at a café, sitting across from each other with matching lattes. I remembered how he'd drawn a heart in the foam of my coffee with the tip of his spoon, his soft laugh making my heart flutter. His smile in that picture was genuine, warm, so different from the cold man upstairs.

Another photo showed us at a park, Jimin holding my hand as we walked beneath cherry blossoms in full bloom. He had looked at me then with so much tenderness, as if I were the only person in the world.

The next picture was one of my favorites, a candid shot of Jimin laughing, his head thrown back and his eyes crinkled at the corners. I'd taken it on a whim during a road trip, and I could almost hear the sound of his laughter just by looking at it.

As I continued scrolling, the memories flooded back. Picnics, movie nights, late-night drives, all the moments that had made me fall in love with him. My heart ached as I stared at those pictures, wondering where that Jimin had gone.

Tears blurred my vision again, and I closed the gallery, unable to look at any more. I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling as questions swirled in my mind. Was it my fault that things had turned out this way? Had I done something wrong? Or had Jimin always been this person, and I just hadn't seen it?

Aaira: Tomorrow will be better.

I told myself, though the words felt hollow.

Aaira: It has to be.

With that, I stood, my body heavy with exhaustion. I made my way to the couch in the living room, curling up beneath a thin blanket. The silence of the house pressed down on me, but I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to sleep.

***

The shrill sound of my alarm pierced the air, jolting me awake. I groaned, slapping at my phone to silence it, but the damage was done. I hated mornings. I hated the way they forced me to confront reality, and this morning was no different. My body felt stiff and heavy, and when I opened my eyes, I realized why, I was still in my wedding dress.

I sat up slowly, the heavy fabric bunching awkwardly around me. I had never been so restless in sleep before. My hair was a tangled mess, and I could still feel the remnants of yesterday's tears drying uncomfortably on my cheeks. I sighed heavily and rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the remnants of last night's chaos.

My gaze landed on the table nearby, where Jimin's car keys sat. Of course, I would have to do everything myself. There was no point in expecting him to help. With a resigned sigh, I grabbed the keys and made my way to the car. The morning air was crisp and slightly chilly, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the house.

I opened the trunk and stared at my suitcases, realizing they were heavier than I had remembered. I tried pulling one out, but it refused to budge. After several attempts, including a lot of grunting and nearly falling into the trunk, I finally managed to wrestle the suitcase free. My arms burned as I dragged it across the driveway, up the stairs, and into the house.

There was no way I was going to drag it into Jimin's room. I had no intention of being humiliated again. Instead, I chose a smaller guest room down the hall, away from him. The room was modest but clean, and it felt safer somehow. I plopped the suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it, rummaging through until I found my silk nightgown. I held it up, sighing in relief at the soft fabric.

As I tried to change, I realized I couldn't reach the zipper on my wedding dress. I twisted and turned, my fingers fumbling helplessly, but it was no use. Frustrated, I gave up and left the zipper half-open, determined to deal with it later. I wrapped my nightgown over my arm and made my way downstairs.

I had a mission, breakfast.

The sound of Jimin's voice stopped me in my tracks. He was in the living room, arguing heatedly on the phone. I couldn't make out every word, but his tone was sharp, clipped, and filled with irritation.

Jimin: Don't call me about this again.

He snapped.

Jimin: I told you I'd handle it.

His voice was cold, almost venomous, and I wondered if he had even slept. From the tension in his voice, it seemed unlikely. I didn't linger; I didn't want to give him any excuse to direct that anger at me.

In the kitchen, I set my phone on the counter and searched for a simple breakfast tutorial on YouTube. After scrolling through a few options, I settled on one titled "Beginner's Guide to a Quick Breakfast: Eggs and Toast."

The cheerful host on the screen made it seem so easy.

Host: First, grab your eggs, butter, and bread.

She said with a smile. I frowned. Where would I even find those? I began opening random cabinets and drawers, feeling like an intruder in my own kitchen. Finally, I located a carton of eggs in the fridge, a loaf of bread on the counter, and butter in a small dish.

Host: Next, heat your pan.

The host continued. I stared at the gas stove, my nemesis from the night before. After a moment of hesitation, I turned the knob and watched the blue flame flicker to life. At least I'm learning, I thought, trying to cheer myself up.

Host: Crack the eggs into the pan.

The tutorial said. I grabbed an egg, tapping it lightly against the edge of the counter. Nothing. I tapped harder, and the egg shattered in my hand, yolk and shell dripping onto the counter.

Aaira: Ugh.

I groaned, grabbing a paper towel to clean the mess. The second attempt went better; the egg cracked neatly into the pan. As it sizzled, I couldn't help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. I was doing it.

I buttered a slice of bread and placed it in a pan to toast, just like the tutorial showed. My movements were clumsy, and I was painfully slow, but eventually, I managed to plate two fried eggs and two slices of toast. The result wasn't perfect, but it was edible, and I was proud of myself.

As I set the plate on the dining table, I glanced toward the living room. Jimin had ended his call and was leaning back on the couch, his expression unreadable. I hesitated, debating whether to call him for breakfast or leave it on the table for him to find. Finally, I cleared my throat.

Aaira: Jimin.

I said softly. He turned his head slightly, his gaze cold and indifferent.

Jimin: What?

Aaira: I made breakfast.

I said, gesturing toward the table. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, and walked over to the table. He looked down at the plate, then back at me.

Jimin: This is what you call breakfast?

He asked, his tone dripping with disdain. My cheeks flushed.

Aaira: It's my first time.

I said defensively. He picked up a piece of toast, inspecting it as if it were something foreign.

Jimin: It's burnt.

He said flatly, dropping it back onto the plate.

Aaira: I'm trying.

I said, my voice shaking with frustration.

Jimin: Try harder.

He said, turning to leave the room. I stood there, staring at the plate of food, my hands clenched into fists. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to cry again. Instead, I sat down and ate the breakfast myself. It wasn't great, but it was mine, and that was enough.

As I sat at the dining table, staring at the untouched breakfast I'd made, Jimin stopped mid-step before leaving the room. He turned, his sharp gaze landing on me like a blade.

Jimin: Why are you still in your wedding dress?

He asked, his tone tinged with irritation. I looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Aaira: I... I didn't have time to change.

I mumbled. It wasn't the whole truth, but I didn't have the energy to explain. He crossed his arms, his impatience evident.

Jimin: I asked you a question.

He said, his voice louder this time.

Jimin: Why are you still in it?

I sighed, feeling cornered.

Aaira: I couldn't find my clothes yesterday, and today... I can't reach the zipper.

His expression darkened, and he let out a short, sarcastic laugh.

Jimin: Then be stuck in it forever.

He said coldly. His words stung, but before I could respond, he added.

Jimin: You've ruined my breakfast. I can't even hope for a better dinner.

His voice was dripping with disdain.

Jimin: And by the way, last night's coffee mug is in my room. Make sure you clean it.

With that, he walked away, his steps heavy with exhaustion. As he disappeared up the stairs, I noticed the faint shadows under his eyes. He hadn't slept at all last night. That realization left a strange taste in my mouth, pity mixed with anger.

I sat there, blinking at the empty space where he'd stood, too stunned to even finish my meal. My appetite had vanished completely. The humiliation, the frustration, it was all too much. My gaze wandered down to the heavy gown I was still wearing, and I slumped back in my chair. How was I ever going to get out of this dress?

After a few moments of sitting in silence, I forced myself to get up. I needed to keep moving, to distract myself. I pulled out my phone and searched for a tutorial on washing dishes. The video was straightforward, and I followed along as best I could, scrubbing each plate, cup, and utensil until they were clean. It was tedious, but at least it gave me something to focus on other than my spiraling thoughts.

When I was done, I slumped onto the sofa in the living room, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything was crushing me, this house, this marriage, this dress that I couldn't escape. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare with no way out.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, breaking the heavy silence. I froze, my heart racing. Who could it be? I hesitated, my mind spinning with possibilities. What if it was someone from Jimin's family? Or worse, what if it was a stranger?

After a moment of debating with myself, I finally got up and opened the door. Standing there was none other than Jungkook, Jimin's youngest brother. His sharp features softened with surprise as he took in the sight of me, still in my wedding gown, my hair a mess, and my expression clearly frazzled.

Jungkook: Aaira ?

He said, his voice filled with genuine shock.

Jungkook: Why are you... still in your wedding dress?

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Aaira: It's... a long story.

I muttered, stepping aside to let him in. Jungkook walked into the house, his curious gaze taking in the disarray around us.

Jungkook: Where's hyung?

He asked, glancing toward the stairs.

Jungkook: Probably in his office.

I said quietly. I wasn't sure if I should tell him about Jimin's behavior. Would it make things worse? Jungkook didn't seem like the type to judge, but I didn't want to risk stirring up more tension. He turned back to me, his expression softening.

Jungkook: Aaira, are you okay?

He asked gently.

Jungkook: You look... tired.

Tired didn't even begin to cover it. I felt drained, like a shell of myself. But I forced a small smile.

Aaira: I'm fine.

I lied.

Aaira: Just adjusting to everything.

Jungkook didn't look convinced, but he didn't press me further. Instead, he motioned toward the gown.

Jungkook: Do you need help with that?

He asked, gesturing to the half-open zipper at my back. I hesitated. It was such a simple offer, but obviously i can't ask his brother to open it up for me, that's ridiculous. Still, I knew I couldn't do it on my own. I didn't know what to say, it wouldn't have been this awkward only if jimin would have helped me.

Jungkook: Oh no, I didn't mean it in that way, I'm asking as for help.

Aaira: Um... I know Jungkook.

Jungkook: I'll close my eyes.

He said as he pulled out his Handkerchief, tying it around his eyes.

Aaira: Yes, please.

I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. I will curse myself for this all my life. He nodded and stepped behind me, carefully unzipping the dress. His movements were gentle and respectful.

Jungkook: There.

He said when he was done.

Jungkook: You should change into something more comfortable.

Aaira: Thank you.

I said softly, holding the dress close to my chest. As Jungkook settled onto the sofa, I excused myself to the guest room. I quickly changed into my silk nightgown, finally free of the heavy gown that had been weighing me down both physically and emotionally. When I returned to the living room, Jungkook was flipping through his phone.

Jungkook: You can sit.

He said, patting the space next to him. I hesitated before sitting down, unsure of what to say. Jungkook looked at me, his dark eyes filled with concern.

Jungkook: Aaira, if you ever need anything... you can call me.

He said earnestly. His kindness was overwhelming, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

Aaira: Thank you, Jungkook.

I said, my voice shaky.

Aaira: That means a lot.

The air in the room grew heavy with awkward silence after I sat down next to Jungkook. I fidgeted with my fingers, unsure of what to say, when he finally broke the tension.

Jungkook: By the way, Aaira.

He started, his tone light and casual.

Jungkook: I have some pictures from yesterday's ceremony. Want to see them?

My face brightened at the mention of pictures, a small distraction from my current misery.

Aaira's Really? That would be great! Why don't you send them to me?

Jungkook: Sure.

He said, pulling out his phone. After a few taps, he looked up at me.

Jungkook: Check your WhatsApp. I've sent them all.

I reached for my phone and opened the app. A series of images from the wedding began to load, each one capturing moments I barely remembered due to the whirlwind of emotions from the day.

There were pictures of me and Jimin at the altar, his face distant as always, and shots of the guests smiling and celebrating. Despite the coldness I felt from him, the pictures made it look like we were the perfect couple. I smiled faintly, though it didn't reach my eyes.

Aaira: Thanks, Jungkook. These are really nice.

I said softly, my gaze lingering on a picture where I was smiling brightly at the camera, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface of my life.

Jungkook: Glad you like them.

He said with a grin. I decided to lighten the mood.

Aaira: By the way, Jungkook, you should have dinner with us today.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Jungkook: Dinner? With you and Jimin hyung? No way! Am I crazy enough to invade newlyweds' privacy?

I chuckled nervously.

Aaira: No, really. It's not a problem.

He shook his head, adamant.

Jungkook: Even if it's not a problem for you, I'm pretty sure it would be for hyung. You know how he is.

My smile faltered slightly, but I tried to brush it off.

Aaira: No, Jungkook, it's nothing like that.

He gave me a knowing look.

Jungkook: Aaira, come on. You're married now. Things are different.

I nodded slowly, realizing that he wasn't wrong. Still, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at how "different" everything had become. Wanting to be a proper hostess, I stood up and said.

Aaira: Wait here. I'll get you something to drink.

I made my way to the fridge and poured some juice into a glass, setting it on a tray. As I looked at the tray, I realized I had no idea what to serve alongside it. Panic began to bubble in my chest. I had never been in the kitchen before, and now I was expected to know these things?

Frustrated, I grabbed my phone and searched, "What to serve with juice to a guest?" The top answer said, "Fruits."

Aaira: Fruits?

I muttered under my breath, incredulous. I didn't even know how to cut fruits properly. But I wasn't going to let my lack of experience stop me. I grabbed an apple and a knife and watched a quick tutorial on how to cut it. I held the knife with trembling hands, trying to steady myself. As I pressed the blade against the apple, it slipped slightly and grazed my finger.

A sharp sting shot through me, and I winced, pulling my hand back to see a small cut. Tears filled my eyes, not just from the pain but from the sheer frustration of everything. I bit my lip and suppressed the scream building in my throat.

Aaira: It's just a tiny cut.

I whispered to myself, grabbing a tissue to dab the blood. Determined not to give up, I returned to the apple and tried again, this time being extra careful. By the time I finished cutting the apple, I had nicked my fingers twice more.

I moved on to other fruits, bananas, strawberries, and a pear, each one presenting its own challenges. With every mistake, I felt more and more inadequate. I wasn't cut out for this. After what felt like an eternity, I finally had a plate of fruit ready.

My hands were shaky, and my fingers bore the marks of my effort, but I managed to put the plate and the juice on the tray. I took a moment to breathe, proud that I hadn't let my frustration take over completely. When I returned to the living room, Jungkook looked up from his phone. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the tray I was carrying.

Jungkook: Wow, Aaira, that looks great.

He said, genuinely impressed. I set the tray down on the table and offered him a small smile.

Aaira: Thanks. It was... an adventure.

He laughed, taking a sip of the juice.

Jungkook: You're doing good. Adjusting takes time, you know?

His words were kind, but they hit a nerve. Adjusting? Was I supposed to adjust to this life of constant humiliation and struggle? I pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to let my emotions show in front of Jungkook. For the next few minutes, we chatted casually about random things.

His work, the family, and even a bit about the wedding. But as much as I tried to stay present, my mind kept drifting back to Jimin and the coldness in his eyes when he left this morning. When Jungkook finally got up to leave, he gave me a reassuring smile.

Jungkook: By The way, the princess Aaira is doing chores ?

Aaira: Umm... I asked Jimin, I wanted to be a good wife.

I lied, walking him to the door. As the door closed behind him, the house fell silent again. I looked at the empty living room, feeling the weight of loneliness settle on my shoulders. For a moment, I considered calling Jimin, but I knew it wouldn't make a difference. At this point, I wonder, if can't you see me ? My pain ? My suffering? I'm trying my best.