“I’m not marrying him,” you firmly concluded.

The coffee mug fell from your mother’s hands, shattering on the table.  Coffee spilled across the cloth as your mother desperately tried to clean up the mess. 

“What?” your father questioned.

“I’m not marrying Kim Jongin.  Ever,” your voice trembled. 

“_______ah, do you know what you are saying?” your mother asked. 

“Yes, if I was not clear enough.  I will repeat myself.  I will never, ever marry Kim Jongin,” you spoke.  Your knees wobbled. 

“Did you guys get into a small argument?  You were fine a few days ago.  He even came over during New Years,” your mother tried to downplay so that your father would calm down. 

“I don’t care if you want to or not, you are marrying him,” your father sternly said as he got up to leave. 

“Appa…” you called out and then criticized, “Please.  You can’t use my marriage as a means for your business.  That is so unfair!”

A slap landed across your face.  Your palm pressed against your cheek as it throbbed.  Beside you, your mother’s hand shook in fear. 

“________ah, how dare you talk to your father like that!” she lectured. 

You burst into tears as you got up from your kneeling position.  Instantly, you stormed off to your room. 

“You are marrying Kim Jongin and you will marry him as soon as possible!” your father called after you.

Slamming your bedroom door, you slid down the wall, collapsing onto the floor like some unwanted trash. 

—-

Due to your sudden outburst, the wedding was moved from May 20th to February 14th.  For the entire month, you begged and pleaded, kneeled and cried but your father was adamant about using your happiness as his source of financial stability.  Jongin called you all day everyday until you were desperate enough to rip your SIM card into pieces. 

Three days before the wedding, you went on a hunger strike.  You refused any food that came remotely close to you and locked yourself in your princess room.  By day two, dark rings formed under your eyes and you had no energy to even lift your body up, much less walk down the aisle.  A sad smile crept onto your face when you thought you succeeded.  However, on the night before the wedding, your father broke the door down.  Doctors and nurses rushed in securing an IV drip onto your wrist.  You thrashed around, trying to rip it off but they sedated you.  Your eyes rolled back and your body fell limp against your bed.  The last thing you heard before knocking out was your mother begging your father to let you go. 

When you woke up the next morning, you were still dizzy and weak but alive enough for your father to push you to the church chapel.  You refused to get dressed so some workers forcefully stripped you.  Crying, you covered your exposed body with your arms.  As they tugged on the corset straps, you coughed, uncontrollably.  Your mother motioned for the maids to step out for a brief moment.  She placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“_______ah, my precious daughter.  Please stop fighting,” she begged. 

You sobbed, “I loved him I really did…but I can’t marry him.”

“Please, _______ah.  You know your father’s health is not good.  Last night, he fainted when he saw your pale face,” she tearfully spoke.

“W-what?” you asked, shocked.

“I understand that it is not fair that we must use your marriage as a way to keep us financially stable, but it is what it is,” she patted your arm. 

Turning to the mirror, you saw the bone that protruded out on your shoulders.  Your complexion looked like that of a ghost.  Blinking away tears, you nodded to your mother.  She sighed in relief and left. 

With shaking hands, you held your breath and tightened your dress.  The extra weight of the gown caused you to stumble backward.  Shaking your head, you grabbed onto a rail to steady yourself.  Quickly, you placed your headpiece on.  The veil cascaded down your face like waterfalls.  Soon after, the makeup guru came in to darken your pale skin and hide the bags under your eyes. 

Outside, the wedding bells began to ring.  You stood up from your chair and walked to meet up with your father.  Your mother’s words were true.  He had aged a decade in less than three days and you swallowed in guilt, feeling like you were the worst daughter on this planet. 

“Appa, sorry…” you apologized. 

Tears welled in his eyes but he blinked it back.  Your arm looped through his.  The Wedding March began to play.  You took a deep breath and walked toward the aisle, beside your father.  As the church door opened, you saw Kim Jongin for the first time in a month.  He was still as handsome as ever, though, obviously agitated and much thinner.  With eyes staring back to yours, he watched you as you dragged your weak body down the aisle.  Your father took your hand and placed it onto Jongin’s outstretched palms.  Immediately, the bipolarity of temperatures caused you to flinch back.  You were burning up a fever and Jongin was as cold as ice.  Gazing around, the room spun and you almost collapsed over if it hadn’t been your husband’s strong grip on you. 

The preacher spoke words of introduction but all you heard were loud ringing noises in your ear.  By the time you had to say your vows, you were practically leaning your entire weight against Jongin.  He looked at you worriedly. 

“The groom will now say his wedding vows”, the preacher man spoke.

You both turned to look at each other. 

With his hands tightly holding yours, Jongin began, “I, Kim Jongin, choose you, ________ ________, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”

Tears fell down your face as you desperately tried to believe his words but you couldn’t.  You just couldn’t.  But even though you couldn’t…from the soreness of your wounded heart, you knew you had no choice because you were in love.  Because love made you do stupid things. 

The preacher rambled on and on but you couldn’t concentrate enough to comprehend what he was saying. 

As Jongin squeezed your hands, you tearfully said, “I, ________ ________, choose you, Kim Jongin, as my lawfully wedded husband.  I promise to love you for today, always, and eternity, to accept you for who you are and to cherish you no matter what the circumstances are, to listen to your words, and to trust you with my heart, through sorrow and success, for all the days of my life.     

You looked up to see your husband’s face swamped in tears.  Shaking, he slipped the wedding band onto your hand.  You took his hand and held it against your chest before placing the ring onto his finger. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride!” the preacher spoke. 

Instantly, Jongin c