Mirae’s POV

“I trust you, angel. But I don’t trust him.” Those words were the last Jongin had said to me before he let me be. After that he’d walked into his room, shut and locked the door. I knew he was deeply disappointed in me. And that was a type of pain that I found worse than any pain Luhan could cause me. That included yesterday when he’d gotten mad at me because I cried again. I cried because I couldn’t stand hearing about my mother’s wedding plans. Luhan had held onto my wrists, pushed me against the wall and like that tried to force me to stop crying. He told our mothers that everything was fine, meanwhile I held my breath to not let out a single pip. Never again would I believe that Luhan wasn’t strong, since he’d made horrible marks on my wrists after holding me so tight. Luckily, I did own a pair of wrist-warmers which I could wear to prevent my mother from noticing the marks.

A few weeks after the incident, they had disappeared and I could go back to wearing the clothes Luhan liked that I wore – this was also a part of our deal that we’d made. Each day, Luhan and I sat at the ‘cool’ guys’ table, we held hands wherever we went and acted as if we were in love. Of course, this act went on until I could be at home in my room, alone with my tears and regrets. Although Luhan never kissed me – thankfully also a part of our deal – I still needed to now and then plant a kiss on his cheek and he would kiss either my shoulder or neck. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why he did those things when it stood clear that he had the power and thus didn’t have to do anything. Could it really be that he liked doing all this? Or was it simply because he knew how much I hated it? I feared asking him about it. We rarely spoke anyway, so how would I even bring it up?

On the Saturday of my wedding dress shopping, I stood in front of my calendar, counting the days until the wedding. It had already gone seven weeks since I got to know that Luhan was my fiancé. It was less than three months left. I sighed heavily and grabbed my purse. I checked myself in the mirror, then joined my mother and Mi Song in the hallway. I had begged my mother to allow Mi Song to come with us. In case I panicked, I would need someone who knew me well enough to calm me down again, and that was definitely not my own mother. She knew as little about me as all those kids in school that I was forced to hang out with - due to Luhan’s and my agreement. “Ah! You look lovely!” my mother cried out happily. I gave her a faked smile.

“You do look very pretty, Mirae,” Mi Song said, smiling encouragingly at me.

“Thanks...” I replied.

My mother checked herself in the mirror one last time then she stomped out to the waiting car. “Mrs Lu will meet us there,” she informed.

“Oh great. Is she coming too?” I quietly huffed.

“At least Luhan isn’t coming. Maybe Mrs Lu is nice?” Mi Song asked.

I scoffed. “Yeah, she’s just as fake as my mother. They’re both pretending that they love this engagement and are so incredibly excited about this! I don’t think she’s nice for real. She couldn’t be. Otherwise something must’ve gone wrong with Luhan...” I harshly replied. Mi Song giggled.

“Probably. Maybe they dropped him on the floor when he was a baby?” I started laughing; so did Mi Song. We got into the car  that drove to the most expensive wedding dress shop in all of Seoul. There you could find everything from Vivienne Westwood to Vera Wang and Carolina Herrera. All the famous wedding designers were gathered in one place. A dream to any girl but me and those others who were forced into an arranged marriage. I looked around the big store, seeing the endless racks with beautiful wedding dresses. My mother rushed inside and greeted Mrs Lu who stood by a rack of her own. I guessed those were my dresses, obviously not chosen by me. I took Mi Song’s hand tightly in mine and approached the two women who were scrutinising the dresses. “Wow, they’re beautiful,” Mi Song breathed.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I wish I could smile in a dress like that instead of being miserable... Oh well. I’ll pick a pretty dress then, if that’s what they want.” Mi Song hugged me. “Maybe you can have it when you marry Jongin?” I teased. Mi Song playfully slapped my arm.

“Stop it. We’re not getting married.” I stuck out my tongue at her and was just about to reply when my mother grabbed my arm, pulling me to her.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she whispered excitedly.

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