TAEYEON’S STORY

WEDDING

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together to join this man and this woman….”

Judge Lee Sangsoon’s cerulean blue silk tie was patterned with paisley. As he began mouthing the words of the wedding ceremony, I stared at it just the same way I’d stared at the stone cherub at Seungri’s funeral. Frankly it was the best method that I could think of to recapture the numbness I would need to get through what would surely be the longest afternoon of my whole lifetime.

As Jiyong had promised, our wedding was a quiet, tasteful affair in the magnificent garden at the Kwon mansion. There were two dozen people fanned out behind the bride and groom, not counting the servants, photographer and the musicians in the string quartet that had played an airy selection of classical music for a full hour before the ceremony began. The retired judge leading the ceremony was an old friend of the family, hand-picked without doubt especially for the event as a reminder of the Kwons’ influence in Seoul.

I was beyond caring. I assured myself that what I was doing was the right thing, not only for my baby but also for myself as this wedding was my ticket to secure myself a place in the child’s life. If that meant marrying Jiyong, pretending this was his own flesh and blood and playing the chameleon to convince the world that I loved a man that in truth I actually despised wholeheartedly, then so be it. I had learned my survival skills the hard way and the one thing I knew how to do better than anything was pretending.

Pretend.

Yes, I would do anything in my power to defy anyone, to make them look at me standing beside Jiyong and think I was anything but a happy, beautiful bride.

Well, certainly the beautiful part was none of my doing. How could I not be beautiful with so many expensive attention lavished to me? Nothing but the very best for the soon-to-be-wife of Kwon Jiyong.

My hairstyle had been carefully sculpted by professional stylist, crimpled and curled and artfully pinned up with feathery tendrils left hanging to brush against my throat and face. my makeup had been applied with equal care by a makeup artist, who had approached my face with the enthusiasm of a painter approaching an empty white canvas.

My designer wedding suit, a gift from Madam Kwon Soomi, was an ivory Sigalit French gazar strapless gown with flange skirt completed with a matching veil. The shoes, the Jimmy Choo’s shoes with the slander straps slink up my feet adorned with hot fix crystals were something that girls would die for. And yet wearing the shoes made the quotes from the famous Japanese’s manga, Boys over Flower rang inside my mind.

If you wear good shoes, they’ll take you to good places.

So, will I go to good places, even without Seungri by my side?

Hopefully I will. For the baby's sake…

Eyeing the guy who I was supposed to married with the corner of my eye, I was praying hard that everything would sail smoothly. The image of Jiyong, in his perfectly tailored black tuxedo, looking as if he’d just stepped out of the casino scene in a James Bond movie feasted my vision. His thick black hair was combed back, and only on unruly lock had the audacity to creep on his forehead. And yes, even I had to admit that he was the epitome of masculine elegance.

I also had to admit that he had been very considerate to me for this past week, keeping me update with the decisions and wedding arrangements but still maintaining his distance at the same time, as though he was giving me some space and time to adjust to his presence in small doses.

I knew it was premeditated on his part but it did the magic fairly well. I didn’t trust him, of course but I had decided days ago that as long as he was being considerate, I would at least response in the same manner. I firmly believed that a mother’s emotion during pregnancy had an overwhelming effect on the unborn baby and I had no desire to bring an angry, bitter little monster into the world. And as Jiyong had pointed out, since we were going to have to pretend to love each other in public, we might as well try to be civil with each other in private.

It was a formula that had worked perfectly. My hatred for Jiyong made me too frank sometimes but we’d managed to get through the week without any major blowups.

Now, if only I could make it through the ceremony without thinking about the little Kwon that I should have been marrying.

The judge mentioned something about rings and I forced my attention away from his paisley silk tie and onto his words instead. This part needed my participation. Jiyong gave a slim platinum wedding band and I in returned gave my hand to him.

“Do you, Kwon Jiyong, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

I held my breath, waiting for more vows, for Judge Lee Sangsoon to ask, “Will you love, honor and cherish her, and forsaking all others, keep her only unto you until death do you part?”

But he didn’t say the words and Jiyong didn’t have to swear to do any of them either other than taking me as his wife. His softly spoken ‘I do’ held the proper amount of conviction to convince those assembled that this was something more than a picture perfect cover up.

He slid the ring onto my finger next to the magnificent diamond engagement ring he’d enticed me into accepting earlier in the week.

And then, it was my turn. I took Jiyong’s platinum band from the bridesmaid and accepted the hand that he held out to me.

“And do you, Kim Taeyeon, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?”

I tried to match my tone to Jiyong’s but it came out as merely like a whisper. “I do.”

I slipped the ring onto his finger and noticed with an odd aloofness that his fingers were almost the same like Seungri’s. Long. Beautiful. Masculine. Elegant. The ring went on smoothly.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounced you husband and wife.”

There. It was over. I had officially sold my soul to the devil himself and there was no turning back for me. Ever!

I wanted to cry.

For Seungri, for myself, for the baby.

For the loss, the pain…. The lies…

I fought hard to find the strength that had gotten me through Seungri’s funeral but it was nowhere to be found. Well… not until I looked into Jiyong’s brown eyes. There was compassion in them, and sorrow, as though he knew my pain, understood it and shared it. The devil Jiyong was gone and in front of me was a man with a heart and soul.

I caught my breath sharply as he took my face in his hands and pressed a kiss on my lips that was as tender as the look in his brown eyes.

His lips were warm. Unexpectedly so.

And sweet like honey.

The tears I had managed to control for more than a week got away from me. Two coursed down my cheeks but