Hehe. Wifey

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POV: Bible

"YOU FUCKER! YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE! YOU— I HATE YOU! I WON'T MARRY A DUMP FACE LIKE HIM!"

Bible was furious—like, vein-popping, voice-cracking, arms-flailing kind of furious. His whole face was red, eyes glossy with rage, hair slightly disheveled from stress and pure dramatic flair.

He pointed at Jes like he was trying to summon a demon. Jes, in contrast, was sitting perfectly still at the end of the giant office table, one leg crossed, suit tailored to hell, sipping a cold brew like they weren't in a soap opera.

"Bible, have some manners!" his father hissed, face stiff with shame. "Mr. Tilapornputt, I deeply apologize for my son's behavior—"

Jes raised a hand, cool and calm like a bored mafia boss at a charity event. "Mr. Sumettikul, no need to apologize. I'll give you both a moment to... discuss it." He stood smoothly, adjusting his sleeves like he hadn't just been verbally dropkicked by an angry kitten.

But just before he reached the door, Jes paused—turned his head slightly—and smirked.

"Ah... You'd make a beautiful bride, Bible."

He rolled the l on "Bible" like it was dipped in diamonds, and walked out.

Bible exploded.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA—!" He picked up a decorative crystal apple from the table and hurled it at the closed door. It hit the wood with a very expensive thunk.

"Did you see this? He plans something. He'll probably kill me after so he gets our money, Dad!" Bible flailed his arms again, pacing like a cartoon character having a meltdown. His eyes were wide, and his voice cracked dramatically every few seconds.

"Why would he marry me anyway?! I'm a man! He is too! Like—WTF ARE YOU DOING?!"

He was on the verge of crying now, blinking way too fast, clutching his phone like it might save him from this corporate hell.

His dad sat completely still, sipping tea with the calmness of someone who had survived three bankruptcies and one cheating scandal.

"Are you finished?" he said, without looking up.

Bible snorted loudly, full of rage and drama.

"Good," his dad said, totally unfazed. "Sit down. I'll explain it to you."

He tapped the table like he was about to announce the dinner menu—not casually hand his son off for marriage.

"Fine." Bible dropped into the chair like gravity betrayed him, legs spread, gum popping, radiating rich-boy attitude. He looked like he'd just been asked to donate his Ferrari to charity.

"So, as you know," his dad began calmly, folding his hands, "Mr. Tilapornputt's company and ours have been in business together since your grandfather's time. Now, for Jes to take full control as CEO, he has to be married."

Bible blinked. Slowly. Suspiciously.

"To me?!" 

"Yes," his dad said, like that was totally normal. "Since we don't trust outsiders and I only have two sons—and your brother is already in a relationship—you were the best candidate."

Bible's jaw fell open like he just witnessed a murder.

"HOW—Dad, how are you saying this so casually?! Like it's not my entire life we're talking about?!" He leaned forward, gum snapping louder.

"I mean—did I ever say I was gay?!" Bible was bright red. Like cherry tomato in distress red.

Then, just as fast, he turned completely pale—like someone had unplugged his soul. He clutched his stomach dramatically. "Ugh—I think I'm gonna throw up. No, seriously. I feel like I just swallowed a shoe."

His dad didn't flinch. Just sipped his tea like he was watching a cute little meltdown on TV.

"Well, you never said it," he replied calmly, "and I know you've dated girls before, but that doesn't matter." He smiled. "Besides, Mr. Tilapornputt is a very handsome gentleman, don't you think?"

Bible's brain crashed. Fully. He looked up with wide, betrayed eyes, and blurted:

"Are you gay?!" His dad blinked. "No."

"So how the fuck are you acting like this isn't a big deal?!" Bible looked like he was about to drop dead from stress—sweating, blinking too fast, and possibly moments away from throwing himself out a window.

His dad stayed perfectly calm. "It's not a big deal. It's just... temporary."

Bible froze mid-freak-out. "Wait. Hold on. Temporary? So like... it's not forever? It's not real?" His voice cracked on the word "real." Hope returned to his eyes like a dying phone finally plugged into a charger.

"No, son, of course not. Don't worry," his dad said, still sipping tea like he wasn't mentally ruining his child. "I mean—sure, you're a bratty little chaos machine, but I'm still your father. I'd never force you into a lifelong marriage."

The sarcasm was subtle. The salt? Not so much.

"How long?" Bible asked, eyes narrowing like a lawyer cross-examining a hostile witness.

His dad folded his hands like he was about to announce someone's sentence.

"Well..."

"How long?" Bible asked again, louder this time, already pre-loading his next tantrum.

"...One year."

There was silence.

Then Bible slowly stood up like a Victorian woman fainting in slow motion. "One. Year."

He stared at the floor. "That's 365 days. 52 weeks. 12 months."

"Good math, my son," his dad said, steepling his fingers like some evil CEO in a drama. "Yes... and during that year, I need you to behave. No scandals. No sex, no drugs, no motorcycles crashing into fountains—none of your usual rockstar chaos."

Bible scoffed, gum snapping. "You're asking me to be a monk in leather. For what? To play fake husband with Mr. Robot Face?"

"If you pull it off," his dad continued calmly, **"you can ask for anything. One wish. No questions."

Bible leaned back in his chair, legs spread, chains jingling, sunglasses still on indoors at 10 p.m.

"Anything?" "Anything." "So, like... a Ducati Panigale V4, limited edition?" "Sure." "Front-row tickets to Guns N' Roses reunion tour?" "Yes." "A new identity and a yacht named 'I Regret Everything'?" "Done."

Bible clicked his tongue, thinking.

Then he leaned in slowly. "Okay. But let's be real here. You're asking me to stay scandal-free. For a whole year. Like... celibate. Clean. Obedient." "Correct." "And I have to pretend I'm in love. With Jes-freaking-pipat. In front of the press."

He narrowed his eyes.

"They're gonna think he railed me on a marble countertop, Dad."

"Language." "Tell me I'm wrong."

His dad cleared his throat, unfazed. "Also, you'll be living with him."

"I—excuse me?!" Bible sat up like someone just said his bike got repossessed.

"You have to live with Jes. It has to look real."

Bible blinked slowly. "So I'm just supposed to move in with a smug CEO who wears suits to breakfast and looks at people like he's mentally firing them?" "Correct."

Bible stood, ran a hand through his messy black hair, and muttered:

"I'm gonna need alcohol, a helmet, and at least three emotional support motorcycles."

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"WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" Mio howled, doubled over, clutching his stomach like he was about to pass out.

JJay was already crying from laughter as he placed a cheap white veil on top of Bible's head.

Bible just stood there—deadpan, in his black leather jacket, sunglasses on, arms crossed, and a face that screamed "I hope you crash your bike tonight."

"JJAY. I swear to god. You're gonna die tonight," Bible barked, not even bothering to remove the veil yet. His jaw was clenched. Rage levels: rising.

"WHAHAHAHAHA—MISS TILAPORNPUTT!!" JJay wheezed, nearly falling off his bike.

"THE BLUSHING BRIDE!" "AWWWW SHOULD WE CALL JES?!"

Tears. Actual tears were rolling down their faces now.

"Just—FUCK YOU," Bible growled, finally snatching the veil off his head. He slammed it to the ground and stomped on it like it had insulted his entire bloodline.

"Let's just watch the race." He grabbed his helmet and pulled it on with a dramatic flair, revving his engine like he was about to erase every memory from the last five minutes.

Mio was still gasping for air between wheezes. "Imagine the wedding though—Bible walking down the aisle in boots and a tutu!"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Bible roared over the sound of his engine, revving it so hard the exhaust practically screamed in rage with him.

The races were their place. Always had been.

Whether it was on the official racetracks or some half-abandoned underground strip that was definitely not legal—didn't matter. The roar of engines, the smell of gasoline, the blur of speed under neon lights... it was home.

Bible loved the kick. The rush. The way the world blurred when bikes flew past like lightning, heart pounding like a drum solo in his chest.

Sometimes he just watched, leaning back on his own ride, cigarette between his lips, eyes locked on the road. But other times?

Other times he raced himself.

Helmet on. Jacket zipped. Eyes locked in. And when he rode, everything else disappeared—his name, his problems.

It was just him, the machine, and the speed.

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They stood in the VIP zone, up on the tribune, looking down at the track below as the motorbikes roared past—blurs of speed, light, and power.

Bible exhaled slowly, the sound nearly lost under the growling engines. For a split second, he zoned out.

Just a few more days... and he'd be married.

Even though it was temporary, arranged, and supposedly no big deal— it felt like a living nightmare.

The more he thought about it, the more his stomach twisted. And every time that smug bastard's face popped into his mind—Jes, with that expensive smirk and bleached villain teeth— Bible genuinely felt like throwing up.

"So, Bible, tell us, buddy!" JJay suddenly threw an arm around his shoulders like they were about to celebrate something exciting. "We should totally throw you a bachelor party!"

"JJay—" Bible didn't even have the energy to rage anymore. His voice came out tired, flat, done-with-life. He rubbed his temples.

"I can't believe my dad is actually doing this to me." He ruffled his own hair like he was trying to physically shake the reality out of his skull.

"Me. Married. To a CEO with more bank accounts than personality." Mio leaned in with a grin. "At least he's hot?"

"I don't care how he looks," Bible snapped, exasperated. "He has a dick. That's enough for me to not care."

"WAHAHAHAHA!!" JJay nearly fell over laughing, clutching his stomach like he'd been physically hit. "That's so messed up, dude—but c'mon, you're not actually gonna have to do that with him."

He held up his hands and made the motion—finger in one hand, hole in the other, in and out like a cursed emoji reenactment.

Bible slapped his hands away with a scowl. "Don't—touch me—with those cursed fingers ever again."

He crossed his arms and muttered under his breath.

"I'm obviously adding that to the contract. No sex. No 'oops we're tipsy' accidents. Nothing." Then he paused. His expression shifted. A little fear crept in.

"But... what if I have to kiss him?" The boys stopped laughing. "I mean... it's supposed to look real, right? Public events... press... photos..."

His voice trailed off as he went pale. Again. He looked like he just saw his own funeral invitation.

Mio leaned in with the biggest grin. "Oh, you'll definitely have to kiss him. You'll feel his stubble against your face... and smell his aftershave... all close and personal..."

"WHAHAHAHAHAHA—"

Bible slapped his hand over Mio's mouth, red in the ears again.

"Shut. The. Hell. Up." "Mmmmfmfmm—" "And stop enjoying this!!"

"Is he taller than you?" Mio leaned in, grinning like the devil himself. "More muscles? Are his shoulders broader than yours? What about his hands? Are yours bigger than his?"

Bible squinted at him slowly, already feeling the brain damage incoming. "Why the hell are you asking me this?"

Mio wiggled his eyebrows. "Because it tells you your position in the marriage."He gave Bible a smug look."Hehe. Wifey."

JJay lost it. "WHAHAHAHAHA—WIFEY TILAPORNPUTT RETURNS!!"

Bible stood there, jaw tight, hands in fists, leather jacket creaking from rage.

"Say it one more time," he said with death in his voice, "and I will put chewing gum in your helmet."

"Oooh scary~" Mio teased, then made kissy noises. "Don't forget to let him carry you over the threshold, babe~"

"I SWEAR TO GOD!" Bible lunged for him, and the rest of the gang screamed and scattered like rats with money and no morals.

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POV: AUTHORLEEEEL—I literally cannot with these boys!I loved them way too much in my last story, so of course I had to bring the chaotic trio back again. Mio, JJay, and Bible? They're just unserious at this point. I swear it's getting more hilarious every time I write them.

Bible out here trying to survive an arranged marriage, and these two clowns are making finger-hole jokes and calling him Wifey Tilapornputt. I'm just the author. I have no control anymore.