School was bearable even the gossips and backstabbers, but the party that the whole DBSK launched was hardly breathable. Over hundreds of elderly people stare at you critically when Jaejoong formally introduced you as his legal wife, when you were asked to sit down; he went over his plans for the company.

           You sank uncomfortably against the chair fronting all the audience. It was like a press conference than a party. But the people around you are not just commoners, but people who had sayings in the whole Korea. Your lips already hurt from smiling widely and you couldn’t breathe from the blue dress Min-kyu asked you to wear earlier before she left with Jin for Spain.

            Not one of those elders who stared back is familiar, only the DBSK who were sprawled lazily in their chairs. Max Changmin caught you and gave his heartbreaking smile and flirty wink. You smiled weakly unaffected.

            This party is important to Jaejoong. You reminded yourself. The people around are either investors to his company.

            When finally Junsu Xiah offered the final toast for dancing, you skipped for the bowl of punch. There were wines and liquors offered but there’s no way you’re going to try one of those bitter drinks.

             You took a glass and poured a punch. The old people began to dance in waltz, as you sipped you watched with bored interest at them. A few old women gathered in front of you to block the view. They asked you questions on how it was like to be married to a very powerful young man in Korea.

             You answered them politely, but you felt awkward at first. It felt like talking to very rich snobby grandmothers. When there husbands asked for a dance, you sauntered past them and hid yourself from the far end near the entry door.

               The door burst open which made you leap. Your punch pours out of the glass and into somebody’s white tuxedo, in which you banged yourself into.

               The man muttered a curse. He looked down on his tux in irritation and took out a handkerchief. He began to clean after the pink stain but it clung there permanently.

                 “I. Am. So. Sorry.” You said slowly.

                 Luckily only a few guests witnessed the incident, but a few was enough to make you shake in fright. “Not Yunho Jung.” They whispered.

                 The name registered slowly to your dimwitted brain. Yunho Jung. Yunho Jung. Yunho Jung. You searched through you head but you couldn’t remember.

                  Yunho Jung looked at you with unsympathetic pair of eyes. “Sorry? Don’t you know how much this Armani suit costs?”

                  “I said I was sorry.” You looked down on the floor, and a blush crept to your face.

                   Yunho took a second look at you, and his heart began to beat fast. He softened and took your chin with a gentle finger. “Just don’t do that again, beautiful angel.”