TAEHYUNG POV

Exiting my private jet, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within me-a swelling pride in my accomplishments mingled with a lingering ache for Lisa's absence.

As the dedicated guards efficiently tended to my luggage, I descended the steps, my cigarette momentarily distracting me. Making my way towards the waiting convoy, a sleek Range Rover stood at the forefront, surrounded by a ring of security vehicles.

The meticulously arranged vehicles spoke volumes about the professionalism of my security detail. With unwavering precision, the chauffeur opened the door to the luxurious Range Rover.

My journey into the complexities of overseas affairs beckoned, yet unresolved matters with Lisa cast shadows over my departure.

As the comfortable confines of the car enveloped me, the streets of the USA blurred past as I made my way to Namjoon's company for the impending deal. Namjoon, known as Python in the underworld, was a mafia boss hiding under the guise of a businessman.

Despite his criminal affiliations, Namjoon has become a good friend of mine since I was sent here as punishment by my stepfather. The school I attended catered to wealthy children, and it was there that I first met Namjoon, who hailed from a mafia family that had risen to power.

Now, Namjoon needed my help, and in return, it would benefit me by bolstering my power and influence. Despite the dangers of getting involved with someone like Namjoon, I trusted him.

As the car whisked through the bustling streets of the USA, I contemplated the arrangement with Kahan, Namjoon's trusted man. In a calculated move, I utilized my influence to appoint him as the Deputy Superintendent of Police in my area.

This strategic maneuver not only solidified my control but also provided a shield under which Namjoon could operate his clandestine activities. In this dynamic, Kahan played the role of a loyal servant, fiercely dedicated to serving my interests.

Our partnership was built on mutual benefit and unwavering trust, cemented by the shared understanding that in our world, power was the ultimate currency and loyalty was the key to survival.

His world was complex and filled with shadows, but beneath it all, I knew he had a code of honor and loyalty that he upheld fiercely. As the car sped towards our destination, I braced myself for the challenges and opportunities that awaited me in Namjoon's world of crime and intrigue.

Despite my efforts to divert my thoughts, memories of Lisa persisted, each one a poignant reminder of our intricate relationship. One particular incident from years ago surfaced in my mind, when she was just seven and I was fifteen.

Recalling the day I discovered a boy attempting to approach her at school ignited a fierce protectiveness within me, a testament to the turbulent times of our past. As we traversed the cityscape, the echoes of that intensity resonated within me, underscoring the depth of my emotions.

**

During break time, I walked out of my classroom and headed towards Lisa's class, my concern for her weighing on my heart. As I approached, I overheard two boys discussing Lisa. One of them said, "I like Lisa, but she's hesitant to even be friends. She's very kind and has helped me a lot."

Unable to contain my emotions, I strode towards him, grabbed his collar, and warned, "Don't dare talk to Lisa, got that?" The boy tried to push me away, but before things escalated, I heard Lisa's soft voice calling me, "Brother! What are you doing?"

I halted my aggression, turning to see her looking scared. She pleaded, "Did I do something wrong? Please don't hurt him; he's a good boy." I rushed to her side, taking her away from the crowd to a quieter part of the classroom.

Looking at her, I scolded, "Lisa, you are a naive girl. You don't care about anything; you're just making friends. I'll tell Mother you're making friends. Didn't she tell you not to make friends?"

I played on her fears to keep her away from other men. Trembling, she said, "No, I won't. He wanted to make friends with me, but I told him I wasn't allowed. I swear."

I sternly looked at her and said, "You better never make any male friends, Lisa or anyone else. Now, go from there; I won't tell Mother." She nodded, tears streaming down her face, and quickly left.

Fueled by anger, I confronted the boys who had been talking negatively about Lisa and me. They began complaining, "Just because I wanted to be friends with her, she rejected me, and then her brother came to beat me. I'll tell the principal, and I'll take my revenge."

Before he could say anything more, I approached the boy, saying, "Hey, I want to talk with you about earlier. I guess I made a mistake." He smiled and replied, "No worries, dude. At least you realized it was your mistake." His friends started laughing, fueling my anger. I smirked and said, "Come, I'll repay you with the best."

I led him to the high-voltage room of the generator. Once inside, my rage intensified, and I began to beat him, pushing his face to the floor. At that moment, I cared about nothing but asserting dominance and taking revenge.

As I unleashed my fury, a janitor intervened, trying to hold me back. Ignoring his efforts, I shouted, "I'll kill him!" The boy lay on the floor, unconscious and bleeding, while my hands were also stained with blood.

During the chaos, a crowd gathered, and the entire school seemed to converge on the scene. The principal arrived, yelling at the staff, "Take him to the infirmary now!" The gravity of the situation sank in as the consequences of my actions unfolded before the school community.

I stood there emotionlessly, staring at the unconscious figure, realizing the severity of what had just transpired. That was the first time I reacted like that, all for Lisa. In the midst of it, I felt like I was losing control, like I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn't fully comprehend.

Yet, strangely, I don't have regrets. The intensity of my actions, though fueled by a protective instinct, left me grappling with a realization-I had ventured into unfamiliar territory, and it was unsettling.

However, at that moment, I couldn't bring myself to regret it, as the lines between reason and impulse blurred in the name of a fierce, uncharted loyalty.

The janitor, persistent in his attempt to restrain me, pleaded, "Please, boy, calm down. This is not the solution." Ignoring his words, I continued to stand there, my gaze fixed on the aftermath of my outburst.

The unconscious boy was swiftly taken to the infirmary, surrounded by concerned onlookers. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on me, and I realized that my actions had far-reaching consequences.

The principal, with a stern expression, approached me and demanded, "Taehyung, my office, now." I followed him in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

As we walked through the school corridors, whispers and glances followed, painting a somber picture of the impact my actions had on the school community.

In the principal's office, a tense atmosphere enveloped us. The principal, visibly disappointed, said, "Violence is never the answer, Taehyung. We will have to take appropriate action after a thorough investigation." The severity of my actions sank in as the consequences of my impulsive behavior became apparent.

He looked at me sternly and continued, "I am going to call your parents. I can't tolerate this kind of behavior in my school, even if you're the son of Mr. Kim." He quickly dialed a number, and my mother picked it up.

The principal proceeded to detail the incident, urging her to come to the school along with my stepfather. After a while, my mother and stepfather burst into the principal's office. My stepfather's eyes bore into mine, filled with rage, and he demanded, "Taehyung, what are you doing?"

The weight of their disappointment hit me like a tidal wave, and I struggled to find the right words to explain the irrationality that had led to this situation. The principal proceeded to detail the incident, leaving my parents visibly disturbed by the gravity of my actions.

My stepfather, consumed by anger, was about to strike me, but my mother intervened, restraining him. She implored, "Don't do that, dear. Ask him. My son can't possibly be at fault. There must be more to the story; perhaps the other boy did something." Her words offered a glimmer of relief, but I could sense the disappointment and concern etched across her face.

My stepfather, still seething with anger, questioned, "What happened to you, Taehyung? What drove you to do such a thing?" I glared at him, summoning all the confidence I could muster, and lied, "That boy was talking about Lisa and trying to force her to be his friend. He was trying to harm her, and I acted to protect her."

My stepfather's eyes softened as he considered my explanation, while my mother's face displayed a mixture of skepticism and concern. I spoke, looking at them, my shirt already stained with blood. "Ask Lisa; she will tell. If you want, I'll take her here, and you can ask her."

The principal responded, "There is no need to go from there; I'll ask the peon to bring her." He picked up the phone and called, instructing, "Bring Lisa Kim from the 7th-grade class." The tension in the room lingered as we awaited Lisa's arrival.

After a few minutes, Lisa entered the principal's office, her eyes widening at the sight of me in a blood-stained shirt. The principal urged her, "Lisa, can you please explain what happened between Taehyung and the other boy?"

My mother, attempting to influence Lisa, said, "Taehyung told us that he did it because of you, as the boy was trying to hurt you." I glared at Lisa and demanded, "Lisa, didn't you tell me that it happened? Speak the truth!" I shouted.

She glanced at me, gulped down, and then back at the principal, hesitating for a moment. Finally, she spoke softly, "Sir, my brother is saying it right." She started to weep, and my stepfather, the real father of Lisa, cupped her face to stop her from crying.

The principal nodded, absorbing her statement. My stepfather looked at me, his expression a mix of disappointment and frustration. I interjected, "Sir, he was saying inappropriate things about Lisa. I lost my temper, thinking he was a threat. I didn't mean to cause trouble."

The principal sighed, "Violence is not the solution, Taehyung. We'll have to address this situation appropriately, considering the safety and well-being of all students."

He looked at my parents and said, "I can't keep Taehyung here." My stepfather responded, "There's no need to keep him here but handle the matter delicately. My reputation matters much."

The atmosphere in the room remained tense, awaiting the principal's decision on how to handle the aftermath of this unfortunate incident.

Leaving the principal's office with my parents, the weight of their disappointment hung in the air. As we exited the school, the driveway of our mansion welcomed us with a display of opulence. Guards, standing with unwavering poise, flanked the entrance, their uniforms reflecting the estate's prestigious standards.

In front of the luxurious car, our designated driver stood with impeccable professionalism, ready to navigate the journey back home.

The fleet of other high-end vehicles added to the spectacle, each one meticulously maintained and contributing to the overall aura of affluence.

Silence dominated the car ride back to the mansion. My mother's stern glances and my stepfather's disapproving expressions mirrored the gravity of the situation.

The grandeur of the surroundings intensified as we approached the estate, yet the tension remained palpable.

Upon reaching the mansion, my stepfather broke the silence and said, "Taehyung, we'll discuss this at home." The sternness in his voice hinted at the impending confrontation.

Upon entering the mansion, the opulence of the surroundings stood in stark contrast to the gravity of the situation.

In the private confines of our home, my stepfather addressed me with authority: "Explain yourself, Taehyung. This behavior is unacceptable." My mother, torn between anger and concern, awaited my response.

I attempted to justify my actions: "Mom, Dad, what I did was for the family and Lisa's safety." The room was filled with a heavy silence as I braced myself for their reactions.

My stepfather's expression hardened. "But that is not the solution. I have decided to send you to the USA for studies. You won't stay here." His words hung in the air, signaling a drastic change in my life.

Glancing at Lisa, my stepsister, I felt a complex mix of emotions-a forbidden desire suppressed beneath the surface. Controlling my rage, I nodded in reluctant acceptance.

Understanding the consequences of my impulsive actions and the impending separation from my familiar surroundings, my stepfather separated me from Lisa.

**

Those days abroad were filled with an intense longing for Lisa. I missed everything about her-her smile, her sweet voice. Despite my initial resolve to never fall for anyone after witnessing my mother's betrayal of my father, Lisa had an inexplicable quality that changed my perspective.

The desire for revenge and frustration boiled within me as my stepfather brought forth a proposal for Lisa. I longed to exert control, to take matters into my own hands, and to eliminate any perceived threats, much like I had done with Cha Enuwoo.

The powerlessness I felt at that moment contrasted sharply with my previous actions, and now, confined within the complexities of family dynamics, I struggled with the internal conflict between dark desires and the bond with Lisa's pure heart.

As I scrolled through my iPhone, I stumbled upon a news article revealing that Cha Enuwoo, the CEO, was now dead. The information disclosed his affairs with several other CEOs' wives, tarnishing his image.

Although the police closed the case as an accident, the collected evidence pointed to his possible involvement with illegal work, which could be responsible for his demise.

A smirk adorned my face as I realized my plan had successfully dismantled Cha Enuwoo's life, and the mystery surrounding his death would remain unsolved.

As I dialed Namjoon's number and he picked up the call, he greeted me, saying, "Hello Taehyung, how are you?" I replied, "I am fine. I am in the USA now, and before going to rest, I am just coming to your company to finalize the deal we discussed."

His words got a little hesitant as he mentioned, "Taehyung, I am with my wife at a jewelry store. It just launched. Please don't mind if I get a little late. I'll come, and if you want, I can send someone to entertain you after I arrive." His words made me cringe, knowing how he changed after getting married.

"There is no need to send someone. I'll come to the jewelry store," I responded. His voice sounded shocked, and he said, "Well, I am hearing right. You will come here. Anyway, I'll send you the address. It will be amazing."

After ending the call, I couldn't help but miss Lisa. I wished we could be a normal couple-she was accompanying me everywhere, staying in my arms, teasing me while I worked, loving me during my tasks, and showering me with her smile.

I clenched my jaw, questioning my decision to go to the jewelry store even when I didn't want to. I got the address from him and instructed the driver to take me there.

As we arrived, I stepped out of the car, greeted by the dazzling sight of the newly launched jewelry store. My guards surrounded me, drawing all attention my way.

Reporters clamored to reach me, a testament to the name I had tirelessly built, now attracting unwanted attention. I noticed admiring glances from girls, but I brushed it off, entering the store with an air of nonchalance.

Inside, I spotted Namjoon approaching with his wife. He greeted me, "Hey dude, looking devilishly handsome. It's nice to see you here. Meet my wife, Jisoo."

She smiled as I nodded and said, "Hello, Mrs. Namjoon. You both can enjoy your time; I'll just look around." Namjoon turned to his wife and said, "Love, can you wait for a while? I'll come. If you need something, you can buy it." She nodded, replying, "No worries; you can spend your time with your friend, and it's nice to meet you."

As we moved away, finding a secluded VIP room with fewer people, Namjoon whispered, "I've already transferred your black money into your account. But what's your plan?"

I shot him a serious glance and said, "I need to establish a hospital. It will serve as a cover for the money we're making-through charity, funds, and influence over people and the government."

Namjoon's eyes widened. "I didn't know you were this devious-undercover the money to elevate your status among powerful businessmen." My gaze intensified as I responded, "I'm already powerful, but I want to extend my influence into the underworld." Desire burned in my eyes-a hunger to control the world around me.

Namjoon nodded. "I'll get it done. But where do you want to establish this?" I glanced at him, stating, "In Korea. You'll have to deal with me there; I want to control Korea first." He chuckled, replying, "Sure, what about Cha Enuwoo? I saw the news; it's good that he's dead."

His nonchalant comment about Cha Enuwoo's demise left a lingering silence between us. I shifted uncomfortably, contemplating the implications of his words. "Good that he's dead?"

I echoed it, my expression unreadable. Memories of past dealings and alliances with Cha Enuwoo surfaced, and I couldn't entirely embrace the ease with which Namjoon seemed to dismiss his fate.

Namjoon, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, cleared his throat. "I mean, for our plans, it's probably for the best. Less competition, you know?"

Despite the logical explanation, a subtle unease lingered in his eyes, betraying a deeper acknowledgment of the darker aspects of our shared endeavors.

I nodded curtly, accepting his justification while concealing the turmoil within. The shadows of the underworld painted a complex picture-one where alliances were transient and the line between friend and foe blurred.

As I stood up, I declared, "I'll meet you tomorrow for more details." Namjoon nodded, and we shook hands. Exiting the room, I took a moment to explore the store.

My gaze fell upon the new collection, and I found myself drawn to a stunning wedding ring, triggering memories of Lisa. Despite the knowledge that nothing could alter our past, I approached the ring displayed in its case.

The store staff was attentive, and my attention shifted to a beautiful pendant adorned with diamonds and engraved with a heart. One of the staff members inquired, "How can I help you?"

I replied, "I need a wedding ring, and I want to order a customized pendant." The prospect of creating something special, perhaps to commemorate a different chapter of my life, lingered in the air.

Impressed by the craftsmanship, I decided to go all out, opting for the million-dollar wedding ring that sparkled with opulence. The staff delicately presented the ring, its brilliance capturing the essence of a moment I was determined to redefine.

"That's exquisite," I remarked, nodding in approval. "I'll take it. Wrap it up." Turning my attention to the customized pendant, I conveyed, "Now, for the pendant. I want it to be something extraordinary. Make it exquisite, intricately adorned with diamonds."

The staff assured me of their best work, one of them saying, "You can trust us, sir. It'll be a piece that surpasses expectations."

As we delved into the details, memories of Lisa couldn't help but surface. The desire to create something new mingled with the echoes of the past.

Despite the complexities, the prospect of this bespoke pendant resonated with a silent promise-a commitment to a future that diverged from the shadows of the past.

When it came time to settle the substantial bill, I confidently handed over my black card, a subtle acknowledgment of my financial prowess. "Charge it to this," I said, watching as the transaction was processed.

The staff asked for the delivery details. "Send it to this address," I instructed, providing the location where these symbols of commitment would find their home-a tangible manifestation of a future waiting to unfold. As the store staff meticulously finalized the order,

Walking out of the store, I cradled the diamond wedding ring box for Lisa in my hands, its weight symbolizing more than just opulence.

Getting into my luxurious car, the engine hummed to life as I navigated through the city's lights. Despite the grandeur surrounding me, a storm of emotions brewed within. Lisa's lingering resentment stirred a quiet fury within me. Clenching the box tighter, I couldn't help but believe that she would eventually understand, regretting the choices made in the wake of our shared past.

The car glided through the city streets, each passing moment amplifying the conflict of emotions within me-a collision of determination, frustration, and an underlying hope for a future that might mend the fractures of the past.

Upon reaching the mansion I owned in the USA, I stepped out of the car, with the guard opening the door for me with deference. As I walked into my mansion, all the staff bowed in respect, a reminder of the power and authority I held in this world.

Entering my luxurious room, I felt the weight of the day's events pressing down on me. With a sense of exhaustion mingling with anticipation, I made my way to the bathroom. Stripping off my suit, I stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over me, washing away the tensions of the day.

As the water flowed over my skin, I allowed myself a moment of solitude, contemplating the intricate web of alliances and conflicts that defined my world. As I gazed into the mirror, a sudden illusion of Lisa smiling back at me sent a jolt of confusion through my veins.

Whipping around, I expected to find her presence, but the room remained empty. Frustration surged within me, igniting a fierce anger that I could no longer contain.

With a primal roar, I lashed out, my hand connecting with the unforgiving surface of the mirror. It shattered into a thousand pieces, the sound of breaking glass echoing in the silent room. Blood welled from the gash in my hand, but I felt no pain, only a searing intensity of desire.

As the shower washed away the crimson evidence of my outburst, I was consumed by a tumultuous mix of emotions. Regret gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, a bitter reminder of the hurt I had caused Lisa. Yet, beneath it all, there simmered an insatiable longing, a desperate need to possess her once more.

In that moment of shattered reflection, I realized the depth of my obsession and the relentless pull of desire that drove me to the brink of madness. With bloodied hands and a fractured soul, I knew that I would stop at nothing to make her mine again.

LISA POV

It had only been two days, but it felt like an eternity without him. Every detail, from his eyes to his possessiveness, lingered in my thoughts.

I yearned for Taehyung, missed him like crazy, and knew I had broken his trust. Determined to make amends, I decided to apologize. I know I should listen to him, but there was no mistake of mine.

Amid my reflections, I took a shower, the water unable to wash away the guilt and longing. Stepping out, I adorned myself in an outfit chosen by Taehyung, pairing it with white sandals. With my hair pulled into a ponytail, I left my room.

Walking toward the backyard, the familiar sounds of laughter and chatter greeted me. As I entered, my steps faltered. There stood Taehyung-my stepbrother and my possessive husband.

The complexities of our relationship unfolded before me, and I braced myself for the emotional encounter that lay ahead. Oh god, why am I doing this sin to love him, to even forgive him, and to want him as much as I can? He should apologize to me, but still, the mishap can't be undone.

Taehyung's handsome smile and radiant skin caught my attention as he conversed with Mom and Dad, his black eyes briefly meeting mine before diverting away, treating me like a stranger. The sting of being ignored by someone I loved resonated deeply.

Moving towards the dining table, I took a seat next to Mom. Taehyung sat across from me, engaged in conversation with Dad, not sparing me a glance. The pain of being overlooked gnawed at me.

Glancing at him, I found my stepmother observing the interaction, sending me a spiteful smile that prompted me to look down, concealing the emotional turmoil beneath the surface.

Taehyung's gaze bore into me, but his demeanor remained indifferent. Did he truly not care? I fixed my attention on my food, concealing the turmoil within me and drowning in sadness.

"Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep well?" Dad's cheerful voice disrupted my inner chaos. I mustered a fake smile and nodded, keeping my head low as they resumed their conversation.

Post-breakfast, we gathered in the garden. Taehyung, an elusive presence, neither spoke nor acknowledged me. I barely touched my food, lost in the painful silence. While they chatted and laughed, my eyes remained fixed on Taehyung, yearning for a connection that seemed severed.

His once-intense stares are now absent, and my heart ached for his attention and his heated gaze. Desperation crept in; I craved his lust, feeling my sanity slip away. I longed for him to acknowledge me, to become the object of his fierce desire.

As they shared moments of joy, I spiraled into madness, consumed by the need for his possessive eyes. In the depths of my being, I acknowledged the sin of falling for my stepbrother, but the prospect of having him as my husband, my man to control and love me, sent shivers of forbidden pleasure through my soul.

During a conversation about Taehyung's business trip, he revealed, "It went well, but it was tiring." My stepmom commented, "Okay, I don't even want to imagine how much work a workaholic like you did to say you were tired," eliciting laughter from Dad and a smirking response from Taehyung.

Then, my father acknowledged Taehyung's judgment regarding a deal, saying, "Taehyung, you were right. Cha Enuwoo was not the right person for the deal. I misjudged your decision." Taehyung's face hardened as he replied "Let this matter go. It's good that people know about that man."

As the conversation continued, the realization that Taehyung's anger kept him from talking or even glancing at me became unbearable. Unable to endure it any longer, I abruptly stood up, drawing everyone's attention.

"My head hurts; I need some rest," I declared before retreating inside. Once in my bedroom, I crumbled onto the floor, tears streaming down my face. I sobbed my head in my hands, overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil.

Nightfall descended as we gathered for dinner; the atmosphere was filled with laughter and conversation. Despite my attempts to engage, my lack of appetite went unnoticed.

When Dad inquired about my well-being, I brushed it off, saying, "I ate something earlier; don't worry about me."

"But are you sure? You seem a bit off," he pressed, concern evident in his voice. "Yeah, I'm fine, just tired," I replied, trying to mask the truth behind a forced smile.

After dinner, the night unfolded quietly, and as everyone exchanged goodnights, Taehyung's absence felt palpable. There was a tension lingering between us, unspoken yet unmistakable, as he didn't bid me farewell before leaving.

Aware that a simple goodnight wouldn't be reciprocated, I refrained from bidding him farewell, not wanting to raise concerns for Dad.

As I walked towards my bedroom, my feet led me past its entrance, guiding me to a familiar hallway. Standing before Taehyung's bedroom door, I hesitated.

Something rang in my head. You need to apologize. It's either now or never. I must speak with him. That is not how our relationship will continue. In addition to closure, I need answers. I want Taehyung's truth! I tried to comfort myself, but anxiety took hold of me.

Summoning all my courage, I knocked on his door, and his cold response cut through the air: "Come in." The threshold of his room held the promise of a crucial moment, one that would either bridge the widening gap or deepen the existing chasm between us.

I cautiously entered, my gaze fixed on the floor, sensing his eyes on me. Closing the door behind me, I stood still, gathering courage, before lifting my head to meet his gaze. The breathtaking sight that unfolded stole my breath away.

Taehyung reclined in the center of a king-size bed, shirtless, revealing his sculpted abs and enticing chest. A black silk blanket draped him, modestly covering him until his waist.

With one arm supporting his head, he perused a file held in his other hand. My intended apology remained trapped within me as his attention remained fixed on the documents.

The silence between us persisted, broken only by the rustling of papers. I stood there, feeling like a mere spectator in his world, questioning if I had become a nobody to him. The pain of contemplating this reality intensified, and I couldn't help but wonder if love was destined to be this agonizing.

"Taehyung..." I uttered, breaking the oppressive silence in his room. He remained focused on his file, turning another page without acknowledging my presence. My heart raced as I took hesitant steps forward, biting my lower lip.

"Taehyung..." I called again, and this time he glanced at me briefly before returning to his documents. Gathering courage, I approached and stood near the bed.

"Please talk to me," I pleaded, suppressing the tears that threatened to surface. Ignoring me, he continued his actions. Desperation led me to sit beside him, grabbing his hand. His movements halted, and he turned his head to look at me.

"Please talk to me," I implored, tears welling in my eyes. He caressed my face with his free hand, but his words cut through the air, leaving me in disbelief.

"Why should I? Don't you have enough men to talk to and go out with? Even if you hate me, then why did you come here, Lisa?" he questioned.

Devastated, I watched him leave for the bathroom. Tears streamed down my face as I sat on his bed, unmoving. I longed for him to be possessive, to hold me in his embrace, yet the distance between us seemed insurmountable.

After 10 minutes, Taehyung emerged from the bathroom, making his way toward the bedroom door, presumably to leave. Determined, I stood up and blocked his path, meeting his gaze filled with the reflection of my teary eyes.

"Let me tell you something," I began my tone a blend of sadness and anger. Crossing his arms, he continued to scrutinize me.

"He indeed tried to kiss me, but I felt nothing. I didn't experience the sparks or pleasure that I do when you kiss me," I confessed, tears streaming down my face. "And so what if we kissed? Why does that bother you? Aren't I just a possession to you?"

"Didn't you have to trust me, Taehyung? It was not my mistake; he was doing it, and even he was touching me badly, and before I could take any action, you came and misunderstood everything." My voice broke as I poured my emotions out.

"And for your information, he tried to kiss me first! It felt so wrong; I rejected him, and you burst inside!!" I declared, fixing my gaze on him. His expression remained unreadable as he listened.

"I never thought I would end up saying this, but I love you, Taehyung. I love you more than anything. Seeing you not talking to me breaks me so much!" I confessed, baring my heart in the hope that he would understand the depth of my feelings.

"Trust me, Taehyung, I never wanted to hurt you," I pleaded, desperation laced in my voice. "I know I've made mistakes, but please believe that my heart belongs to you. The mere thought of losing your trust shatters me."

He maintained his silence, prompting me to take a step closer, closing the physical and emotional distance between us. "I beg you; don't let this destroy what we have. I need you, your love, and your understanding. Please, let me make things right."

His eyes held a mixture of skepticism and pain, and I continued, laying bare my soul. "I understand if it takes time, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to regain your trust. I love you, Taehyung, with all my heart. Please, don't let one mistake ruin everything we've built together."

Tears welled up in my eyes, mirroring the vulnerability I felt at that moment. "I'm sorry for any pain I've caused you. I'm begging you; give us a chance to heal and rebuild what we had."

As I pleaded, my voice trembled with desperation, the rawness of my emotions laid bare for him to see. "You can torture me, you can beat me, and you can do anything to me, but please don't ever ignore me. The pain of being ignored by you is so much worse than that of being tortured. Please..." I implored, my heart laid bare before him.

He looked at me, his gaze heavy with resignation, and uttered words that pierced through me like a dagger. "Stay away from me, Lisa. You are right; I don't deserve you, and you hate me. Just go away," he declared, his voice tinged with a sadness that mirrored my own.

I met his gaze, my heart breaking with each passing moment. "So you would divorce me?" I whispered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

He met my gaze with a solemn nod. "Yes, I will, Lisa. Because that will be good for us," he replied his tone firm yet laced with an underlying pain.

Unable to bear the weight of his decision, I reached out and grasped his hand, my fingers intertwining with his, in a silent plea for understanding. "Then why did you break me when you can't even repair me?" I questioned, the anguish in my voice echoing the turmoil within my soul.

At that moment, as we stood on the precipice of our crumbling relationship, I couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be a way back from the shattered pieces of our love.

But deep down, I knew that no matter what the future held, the scars of our shared pain would forever bind us together in a tragic dance of longing and regret.

As my words hung heavy in the air, a deafening silence settled between us, punctuated only by the ragged sound of our breaths. Taehyung's eyes bore into mine, a tumult of emotions swirling within their depths.

Guilt, regret, and sorrow painted a mosaic of anguish across his features, a stark contrast to the stoic facade he usually wore.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the weight of our shared pain casting a suffocating pall over the room. And then, with a heavy sigh, Taehyung spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know I've hurt you, Lisa," he began, his words heavy with remorse. "And for that, I will carry the weight of my guilt for the rest of my days. But staying with me will only bring you more pain. I'm not capable of being the husband you deserve or of giving you the love and happiness you crave."

Tears welled in my eyes as his admission washed over me, a bittersweet mixture of relief and heartache.

Part of me had hoped that he would fight for us and that he would refuse to let go of the love we once shared. But deep down, I knew that his decision was born out of a desire to spare me further suffering.

With a heavy heart, I nodded a silent acceptance of the truth in his words. "I understand," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion. "But know that my love for you will never fade, Taehyung. No matter where life takes us, a part of me will always belong to you."

As we stood there, grappling with the painful reality of our fractured relationship, I couldn't help but wonder if forgiveness would ever be within reach.

But for now, all I could do was bid farewell to the man I had once loved with all my heart and pray that someday we would find the peace and redemption we so desperately sought.

In an instant, I found myself pushed against the wall, my wrists pinned, and my eyes widening in surprise. He pressed his lips against mine, and our mouths locked in a wild and lustful kiss.

Our bodies pressed together, merging in a passionate embrace that transcended words. The intensity of the moment spoke volumes, conveying a shared desire to bridge the gap that had threatened to consume us.