10★

Originally was planning to put a kiss scene in this chapter but it felt too soon, but it's coming. Tyyyy for all the support if you can go follow my tiktok I'll be promoting this book there in a few weeks (maybe after I finish it idk)

My tiktok: enharizzlerrr  pls follow ;)

Schools are closed so I have time to update more. Don't be a silent reader, pls leave comments and If u like a chapter give it a vote. Made this chapter in 3rd person pov. Idk whether I should switch it up or nah but lmk.

And once more thank you <3 deuces.

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They made the headlines...and now everyone is waiting on the wedding.

The two were sat in Hyeon ju's bedroom, one on the floor another on the bed. Both their eyes were glued to the screen—in shock but mainly because it's new publicity again.

Obviously no one knows about what happened with their father and he basically abused her right after the interview. No one knows about his drinking problem either, he'd never let anyone know how bad of a father he actually is.

They both made eye contact, not moving for a couple of minutes just enjoying each others gaze. Inseparable—maybe, but that didn't stop them from hating each other....maybe.

Hyeon ju looked away feeling her cheeks begin to burn. She abruptly got up and closed the fully open door to her room and joined Ni-ki on the floor. He looked at her—amused, intrigued, excited....wait — excited?

"No matter what you do, even if you hate my father, do not tell the media anything about what happened ok?"  She said staring deep into his eyes. All he could do was nod and raise his pinky to make a pinky promise with her. Their faces on the other hand were inches apart from each other. They were trying really really hard not to close the space between them.

One wrong move and they might end up doing much more than what enemies on contract marriage should be doing. Just then, Sunoo bursted through the door. They both backed away fast enough to give whiplash. (one look give em' whiplash ).

"Dinner.....get down for dinner."  Sunoo said and left the room throwing a couple of knowing glances at Ni-ki who, by all means, avoided his gaze. Hyeon ju stood up and walked out followed by Ni-ki who looked attached to her.

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"Minnie! Sun! Come help me get this chicken out of the oven!"  Their mother shouted from the kitchen. Their mom has been the sweetest to Ni-ki, considering that she takes Hyeon ju as her daughter, she has to make sure she got a good husband. It's the least she could do.

Hyeon ju and Ni-ki were left at the table— both of them not too awkward—but enough for them to not make the slightest bit of eye contact. Ni-ki raised his fork an stabbed it straight into her food, taking the biggest bite of it. Hyeon ju began to protest but Ni-ki put a finger over her mouth shushing her before the rest hear.

His finger didn't move. It stayed there leaving her speechless as its supposed to but differently. He swiped his thumb across her lower lip, wiping off the gravy before putting his finger in his mouth. That was an indirect kiss—was Hyeon ju loving it—yes, yes she was. He shouldn't be doing this to her though. She shouldn't be feeling this, she shouldn't be like this. Anger rose in her chest—was it anger or butterflies.

Their eyes locked across the table, a familiar glare passing between them like a silent challenge. He smirked—cocky, infuriating. She clenched her jaw, fingers curling into fists at her sides, willing herself to look away. But she didn’t. She never did.

They felt too close, always too close. The space between them was charged, humming with something neither of them would name. It wasn’t just anger; it was something sharper, something that made her pulse quicken and her breath hitch against her will.

His voice was a low drawl, mocking. "Getting flustered, sweetheart?"

She scoffed, but her body betrayed her, a heat creeping up her neck. "In your dreams."

But they both knew that was a lie. Because the way their fights always ended with ragged breaths and flushed skin wasn’t normal. The way his fingers brushed hers, and the burning sensation of his thumb on her lip, just barely, as if daring her to acknowledge it—it wasn’t hatred. Not entirely.

It was a war, an unspoken battle of restraint. And God help her, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep fighting.