Married to Mr Jeon

Start **Jimin was just 20, standing at the edge of his dream.** His modeling career had only just begun, and today’s meeting with his manager was supposed to be a big moment. They sat across from each other in a sleek, modern café not far from the agency’s office. His manager was going over details—runway schedules, stylist collaborations, and media prep—but Jimin's mind wasn't fully in the room.

His gaze drifted toward the large window beside them. The world outside felt distant—until it didn’t.

That’s when he saw *him*.

Across the street, standing by the curb, was Choi Min-guk—Jimin’s boyfriend of nearly a year. But Min-guk wasn’t alone. A girl stood beside him, smiling brightly, and Min-guk was laughing with her, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that Jimin hadn’t seen in weeks.

That smile—it wasn’t just casual. It was warm, familiar, *intimate*.

Jimin froze. His breath caught for a second, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read the scene. They weren't touching, but the closeness, the shared laughter... it felt too easy. Too natural.

*Why doesn’t he ever smile like that with me anymore?*

"Jimin?" his manager called gently. "Where’d you go just now?"

Snapping out of it, Jimin looked back at him. "Sorry... I was just distracted." He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He turned to glance out the window again, but the street was empty now. Min-guk and the girl were gone.

---

Later that evening, Jimin arrived at the villa he shared with Min-guk. The sky was dusky, casting long shadows across the garden path as he unlocked the front door.

To his surprise, Min-guk was already home, lounging on the sofa with a drink in hand, scrolling through his phone like any other ordinary evening.

Jimin’s heart fluttered—part relief, part confusion. *Maybe I misunderstood… maybe I imagined it all.*

Min-guk looked up and smiled. “Hey, babe. You’re finally home.”

His voice was warm, casual, like nothing was wrong. “I was thinking... I’ll make you dinner tonight.”

Jimin hesitated. “It’s okay. I’ll do it. I’m already up.”

“You sure?” Min-guk asked. “You look exhausted.”

“I am,” Jimin said quietly, “but it’s fine.”

He headed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror—eyes a bit hollow, lips pressed tight. *Was I just being insecure?*

In the kitchen, he moved quietly, chopping vegetables, boiling water. The soft sound of music played from the living room—Min-guk’s usual playlist. Everything felt normal. But not *right*.

Dinner was simple. Just ramen and a side of stir-fried vegetables. They sat together, the silence between them filled only with the clinking of chopsticks.

Then, Jimin noticed it.

A faint red mark on the side of Min-guk’s neck—just under his jaw, where it met his collarbone. It wasn't large, but unmistakably there.

Jimin stared for a moment, heart starting to race.

“What happened to your neck?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Min-guk paused for half a beat, then touched the spot. “Oh, that? Probably a burn from a cigarette. Didn’t even notice until just now.”

His explanation was smooth—too smooth.

Jimin didn’t push. He just nodded and stood up, walking to the bathroom. He returned with a small ointment tube and set it down in front of him. “Here. You should put this on.”

Min-guk smiled, genuinely this time. “Thanks. Always taking care of me, huh?”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jimin’s forehead. It was gentle—but quick. Almost rushed.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the table. A message lit up the screen. Min-guk glanced at it, his expression flickering.

“I have to go,” he said, standing abruptly. “Work emergency.”

Before Jimin could say anything, Min-guk was grabbing his coat and keys.

He stopped just long enough to kiss Jimin again, this time on the crown of his head.

“I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up, okay?”

And then he was gone.

Jimin sat alone at the dining table, his hands still resting on the edge of his bowl, now half-empty and quickly going cold. The silence of the villa crept in like a slow fog, and the red mark on Min-guk’s neck burned in his memory.

*Was it really a cigarette burn? Or was it something else?*

He didn’t want to doubt him. But tonight, something had shifted.

**Somewhere in the heart of Seoul, inside a towering glass skyscraper, a man stood silently by the window of a lavish office.**

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, long coat draped neatly over his shoulders. The city lights cast a soft glow against the windows, illuminating the sharp lines of his face and the cold intensity in his eyes.

In his gloved hand, he held an old, slightly faded photograph—creased at the edges, clearly treasured.

The picture showed two boys.

One, no older than five, grinning brightly with innocence in his eyes.

The other, about twelve, smiled just as wide—protective, proud, like an older brother or… something more.

The man stared at the photo with a strange softness, but the warmth in his expression was fleeting. It was quickly replaced by a shadowed, haunted look—like he was seeing ghosts from a time long gone.

Suddenly, his phone rang. The sharp sound broke the heavy silence.

He answered it with a low, controlled voice.

“Speak.”

A male voice on the other end responded.

“Boss—Choi Min-guk is with his ex-girlfriend, Kim Min-ji. They checked into a hotel room together.”

The man’s jaw clenched.

“Understood,” he said coolly, and ended the call without another word.

He turned back to the photo, running a finger gently over the younger boy’s smile. His voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking to the memory itself.

“Jimin... why did you walk away from me?”

He stared at the image of the five-year-old—so small, so full of life—and then at the older boy beside him, who was once himself.

“Why didn’t you choose me?” he murmured. “Why couldn’t you see me—love me?”

His fingers tightened around the photo, knuckles pale with tension. His breath hitched slightly as emotions cracked through his perfect composure.

“You chose *him*,” he spat softly. “That liar… that manipulator.”

His voice shook, but not with weakness—with long-held rage and heartbreak.

“I loved you. From the moment I first understood what love even *was.* Fifteen years… fifteen years, Jimin. I waited for you—even after you rejected me.”

A bitter laugh escaped him—sharp, hollow.

“But still, I love you.”

His eyes hardened, voice dropping to something almost inhumanly calm.

“By hook or by crook… you *will* be mine. No one else can protect you like I can. No one else ever will.”

He tucked the photograph carefully into his coat, turned toward the shadows of the office, and walked into the silence—his mind already working, planning.

Because in his world, love wasn’t just love.

It was possession.

And Jimin… Jimin would be his.

2days letter

**It had been a long, exhausting day for Jimin.**

He had just wrapped up a local brand photo shoot—bright camera flashes, hot lights, endless poses. His body ached, and all he wanted was to go home and collapse into bed.

Backstage, as he was changing out of his outfit, his manager, Taemin, peeked in.

"Jimin, do you want me to drop you off?"

Jimin shook his head with a small smile. "No, it’s okay. I’ll go alone."

Taemin hesitated. "Are you sure? It’s late."

"I’m sure," Jimin replied gently. "It’s just… I like going home quietly."

What he didn’t say—and what no one knew—was that Jimin was extremely private about where he lived. Not even Taemin knew the exact address. That was something Min-guk insisted on. Their relationship, after all, was a secret. Known only to a small group of close friends. Min-guk didn’t want the world—or the media—knowing about them.

Not yet.

As Jimin stepped outside into the cool evening air, his phone buzzed.

It was a text message:

**“Party at Hana’s place tonight! Everyone’s coming. You and Min-guk too, right?”**

It was from Hana, a mutual friend. Apparently, she was throwing a house party.

Jimin hesitated. He was tired, but maybe some time with friends would be good. After a quick text exchange with Min-guk, they both agreed to go.

---

**Later that evening, Jimin arrived at Hana’s apartment.**

The hallway was quiet, but he could hear faint laughter and music coming from inside. As he reached the door, he noticed it was slightly ajar—just enough for voices to slip through.

He lifted his hand to knock, but then—

He froze.

He heard *Min-guk’s* voice. And someone else’s. Was that… Kai?

“Now that Min-ji’s back, what’s going to happen to Jimin?” Kai asked, casually, almost playfully.

Min-guk responded, sounding tense. “What do you mean?”

Kai chuckled. “I mean, you’ve been seeing Min-ji for a week now. Isn’t that cheating? You’ve been with Jimin for two years.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Min-guk sighed.

“I do feel bad for Jimin. But I can’t let go of Min-ji either. She’s... different. Jimin is sweet, innocent, obedient—I love that about him. But Min-ji… she knows a different side of me.”

Another voice joined in. Bum Bum.

“Oh, come on,” he said with a laugh. “If you feel guilty, just buy Jimin something expensive. People love gifts and money. Trust me—he’ll forgive you.”

They all laughed.

Jimin stood outside the door, frozen, the noise inside fading behind the pounding of his own heart.

His fingers curled into his palms. His breath shook.

Everything inside him felt like it was slowly collapsing.

The man he loved—the one who held him, kissed him, whispered promises at night—was saying he couldn’t choose him.

That he was just *obedient.*

That money would fix it.

And worst of all... that he was already seeing someone else.

Min-ji.

**Jimin arrived at Choi Villa, the night heavy on his shoulders.**

The cold silence of the mansion wrapped around him the moment he stepped inside. His eyes were red from holding back tears, but his face was expressionless—numb.

He didn’t say a word as he slipped off his shoes and walked in.

The housekeeper, Lily, noticed immediately. “Mr. Jimin,” she said gently, walking over with concern. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer. Just nodded slowly.

She handed him a glass of water, her brows furrowed. “You look pale. Maybe you should rest.”

Jimin took the glass, but he didn’t drink. His mind was far away—replaying every word he had heard at Hana’s place.

*‘Jimin is innocent, obedient.’*

*‘Just buy him something expensive.’*

*‘I can’t leave Min-ji.’*

He closed his eyes for a moment, then stood up with quiet determination. Something had shifted inside him. The ache in his chest was no longer just heartbreak.

It was purpose.

He moved through the hallway quietly, until he stood before a door that had always been off-limits. The one rule Minguk was firm about:

**No one enters this room. Ever.**

But tonight, Jimin didn’t care.

He opened the door.

The room inside was dim, but elegant—lined with soft lighting, rich bookshelves, and deep burgundy walls. But what struck Jimin was the wall to his left. He took a step closer, and his breath caught.

**Photographs.** Dozens of them.

Every frame held a picture of Choi Minguk with a girl.

**Min-ji.**

And with every new photo Jimin looked at, his stomach turned.

Because she looked... *just like him.*

The same soft jawline. The same eyes. The same slender frame. Even her smile—it was eerily similar.

He staggered back slightly.

Suddenly, so many things made sense. The strange reactions of Minguk’s friends when they first met him. The way they looked at him with barely hidden surprise. As if they’d seen him before.

*He was never the first.*

He was a replacement.

Jimin turned around, hands shaking, heart aching—but this time not from weakness.

It was from betrayal.

He left the room in silence and walked out onto the villa’s private balcony, the wind brushing through his hair. He pulled out his phone, stared at the screen for a moment, then dialed a number he hadn’t called in a long time.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then a calm, elegant voice answered.

“Jimin?”

“Mother,” he said quietly, voice steady despite the storm inside him. “I’m ready.”

“Ready…?” she asked.

“For the arranged marriage. With Mr. Jeon. I’ll do it.”

There was a pause on the other end, then relief. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. But I need some time. I’ll return to Seoul soon. I just need to settle something first.”

He hung up before she could ask more.

His reflection stared back at him in the glass doors behind.

**No more tears. No more pretending.**

It was time Choi Minguk learned who Jimin really was—not just a model, not just a lover—but someone with power, bloodline, and fire.

And this time, Jimin wouldn’t be the one left behind.

**At the heart of Seoul, inside the towering Jeon Group headquarters, Jeon Jungkook sat in a high-level boardroom meeting.**

He was calm, composed—his presence alone demanded silence. Sharp black suit, silver cufflinks, and a gaze so unreadable, even senior executives felt a chill under his eyes. He was known not just for his business genius, but for his cold, intimidating aura.

The room was filled with voices discussing stocks, mergers, upcoming partnerships. But Jungkook’s phone vibrated on the glass table.

The screen read: *“Lady Park.”*

**Jimin’s mother.**

He raised a hand. “Excuse me.”

The entire room fell silent as he answered the call, rising from his seat and walking toward the floor-to-ceiling window. The glass reflected the sharp lines of his jaw and the tension in his brows.

“Yes, Lady Park?”

Her voice was elegant, confident. “Mr. Jeon… my son is ready. He’s agreed to the arrangement.”

Jungkook paused.

For a second—just one second—his eyes softened. But his face remained still, like stone.

“...I see,” he replied simply. “Thank you for informing me.”

But as he ended the call, something shifted inside him.

Behind that emotionless face, his heart was racing.

**Jimin.**

He’d waited so long. He never pushed, never chased. He simply waited—because he believed Jimin would come, when the time was right.

He turned slowly to face the room again. The executives looked at him nervously, uncertain of the sudden interruption.

He gave a curt nod.

“This meeting is over. We’ll resume tomorrow.”

Everyone blinked in confusion, but no one dared to ask why. When Jeon Jungkook gave an order, it was final.

As the room cleared, Jungkook stayed behind.

He stepped out onto the balcony attached to his office floor, loosening his tie slightly as he stared out at the Seoul skyline. A rare, quiet smile touched his lips.

**He didn’t want to celebrate in a crowd.**

He wanted to keep this moment to himself.

For years, he’d held his feelings in silence. Watched Jimin from a distance. Let him fall in love, break, grow. Because he didn’t want Jimin as a prince trapped in a golden cage—he wanted him to walk into Jungkook’s life by choice.

And now… he had.

Jungkook’s fingers brushed his lower lip thoughtfully.

*“You’re ready now, Jimin. And this time, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”*

writing here…