066

JEON

I adjust the gold cufflink—cold, sharp—just like every promise I’ve ever made her.

"Is everything clear?" Wooshik’s voice crackles through phone— “Okay. No illogical bullshit today. Boss’s strict order.”

Footsteps scatter loud.

I choose this black suit—the same one she saw me in when we first met. Not for power. Not for fear.Like the monster she said.

But because today… I want her to see me—all of me—and still stay.

While knowing what lies beneath this fabric: blood, obsession, a heart that beats only for her name.Not some polished lie. Not a gentleman with flowers and soft words.

But this.

Her husband.

Her king.

Her curse.

She hates my empire. Hates my hands. Hates how I touch her—with possession, not permission.

But does she hate me?

Or just how much she needs me anyway? but still… I want her to see me. Even if she hates every breath I take...

"Boss, Everything's clear."

Good.

It should be.

"Boss," Jisun cuts quietly. "Louis said he and Max went through the guest list. It’s just those from Lucas’s birthday… no new additions."

No surprises.No threats.Just ghosts dressed as friends at another empty celebration—for my wife who won’t look at me…

...and another child who doesn’t know his father is already broken before they were born.

I stare at the mirror—my reflection hollowed by sleepless nights and silent tears no one meant to see—

Eight months heavy with my blood,One year of her speaks my name with venom—

But today?

Today I don’t care if she hates me more after this…

Because showing up as myself?

That’s not weakness.

That’s surrender—with power still in hands—and love clawing out of ribcage every breath I take.

Sigh.

Silence.

I light a cigarette.

The flame catches—brief, golden—before vanishing into shadow.

Take a drag. Hold it deep in my lungs. Then exhale.

Smoke curls upward, thin and ghostly, into the dark ceiling.

"Boss, should we go outside?" Minho asks softly,

Outside the night swallows the world whole.Calm. Empty.Like something inside me finally broke and decided to rest.

"Leave."

A beat.

Then slow footsteps retreat.Door closes with a thud—final, clean—

Silence wraps like her name on tongue.

One year.

Exactly one year ago—I married you under blood oaths and whispered threats, My little lawyer.—And now? Now you're mine by law. By flesh. By child growing beneath your ribs—a son or daughter born from fire and fury—

Another drag.

And today?

Today we celebrate one year under my roof—with your belly full of our child,

I walk over—the chair groans—I slump on it.Silence settles again. Heavy. Peaceful.

Just me and this endless black sky beyond the glass…

Ash trembles off the cigarette tip... lands on wood like snowflakes on graves.

Another drag—

Flame burns low in darkness,

like my heart—

dying slowly,

patiently,

Waiting for one word from you…

Sigh.

I pull open the drawer—The velvet box rests inside.

Alone.Sacred.

I lift it. Its cold. Heavy. My palm curves over the box.Its shape.Its secrets.

I have never wanted anything in my life like this.But I have never felt so terrified either.Never thought i’d be this man—the one who kneels, who pleads, who needs—

But now?I’d burn every empire to ash just to hear her say "stay"

Fuck.

I grab the bottle—rip the cap off with teeth—and gulp straight down.

Raw liquor scorches my throat.But it’s nothing. Nothing compared to the fire clawing through ribs—this endless hunger for her voice, her touch… even if she screams at me again—

Slam

Gasp.Fuck—

Fingers trembling—not from drink—from fear—I flip open the velvet.

Moonlight spills across it—a single 12-carat oval-cut diamond, cold brilliant.

Too much?Maybe.

But you don’t measure love in carats.You measure it in silence after she walks away.in tears no one sees,in hands that kill for power but shake when reaching for a wife who won’t look at them…

I take it on palm—

I've done a lot of things in life.Hurt people, killed people, taken down empires.But this…

I've never done this to anyone.

Never.

Never thought I'd want to.Until her.

The raw liquor burns down.Nothing could burn like her.

My eyes closes.

"I know I'm a monster... But let me be yours."Let me give all of me.

You hate everything I am… and still loves my child more than you fear me.

Sigh.

Silence.

The guy on that video said—"Show your love through gestures."

Fuck.

He didn’t say how. Didn’t say what to do when your wife flinches if you touch her. When she spits my name like it’s poison. When she’s eight months pregnant with my child and still calls me “monster” under her every breath.

He said— "Give gifts. Show how much you love them."But how do I give her this?

I stare at the diamond on palm—it catching moonlight like frozen tears.

How do I give this to her?

Just walk in? Kneel like some beggar and say—Wife… please wear this on your finger?

OrDo I slip it onto her finger while she sleeps?Would she wake up screaming?Throw it on my face?Toss it into the garden.

Or…

Should I tell Lucas to give it to her—

No.He’s stupid. Too soft Would probably drop it or suck it in his mouth while blabbering nonsense.

Fuck.

Silence again.

I close the box slowly.Slide it back into my inner pocket—right over heart.

Unlock my phone.Google search—  How to propose to your wife on wedding anniversary?

A beat— I click on the first link.

The screen lights up with a cheery thumbnail: “Hello guys! Today I’m going to show you how to re-propose using 3 powerful techniques—”

Wait, techniques?

"Remember the keys are emotional, surprise, and romantic!”

The smiling idiot in pastel shirt holds up cue cards.

"First off. Know your lover. Their passion. What makes them unique."

Well, she hates me.What now?

"Use these points to personalize your proposal—Technique One: Set the mood! Candles, music, vulnerability!"

I glance around— the office dark.Broken glass. Empty bottles. Blood dried on the edge of the desk.

Candles?I have bullet casings littering on floor like confetti.Fuck...I’m already naked.

"Technique Two: Recite your feelings—raw and honest! Women love tears!"

Tears?I’ve been bleeding for months—and she still looks away.

"Technique Three: Present a symbol of your renewed love… like an upgraded ring!"

Upgraded?This is her first damn ring from me— I haven’t even given anything yet— Skip.

"Bullshit."

What does he know? What does any of them know?—About men like me—too ruined to be loved but too selfish to let her go.

The phone screen dark.

This is so hopeless.

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