The first slap came from the media.

"K-Pop Superstar Min Yoongi Marries Mystery Bride in Secret Cross-Cultural Ceremony!"

"Who is the Indian Beauty Who Stole Suga's Heart?"

#YoongiWeds trends worldwide.

The headlines spun a fairytale.

But inside the penthouse apartment you now shared with Yoongi, reality was far from it.

---

Yoongi threw his phone across the couch, jaw locked.

“They’re going to eat this alive.”

You sat on the far end of the room, scrolling through your own phone. Photos of you in bridal red were everywhere. Your veil. Your smile—fake. And your hand locked with his.

“They’re saying we met during your India tour,” you muttered.

Yoongi looked at you for a second too long. “Good. Let them believe it.”

---

Enter the BTS Members

The elevator chimed.

You barely had time to fix your hair when the door burst open—and in walked Kim Namjoon, followed by Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung.

Jin blinked. “So... this is the new Mrs. Min?”

Jimin gave you a small bow and a playful smile. “Nice to meet you. I hope hyung’s not being too cold.”

Yoongi glared. “Hyung is right here.”

Namjoon, ever the composed one, approached you gently. “It’s a complicated situation. But we support him. And you.”

Your throat tightened at the quiet kindness. “Thank you.”

But you didn’t miss the way their eyes flicked to Yoongi—curious. Watching.

Judging.

---

Forced Cohabitation: Day One

That night, you unpacked in the guest room.

Until Yoongi appeared at the door.

“You can’t stay here,” he said. “If anyone from the press gets a glimpse, they’ll suspect something.”

“So you want me in your room?” you asked, heat rising in your cheeks.

His eyes held yours. “I want you where people expect a wife to be.”

So you moved your things.

He didn’t touch you. Barely spoke. But he slept on the couch, refusing to share the bed.

Yet in the quiet of night, you caught him watching you—just once.

Like he was trying to figure you out.

Like he didn’t know if you were a threat… or something worse.

---

The Past Returns

Three days later, you were at a café—hidden behind sunglasses and a scarf—when someone called your name.

A voice you hadn’t heard in a year.

“Y/N?”

You froze.

Ayan.

Your ex-fiance. The one you left behind. The one who broke you.

He stepped closer, stunned. “You're married? To him?”

Your throat dried. “It’s not what you think.”

His gaze hardened. “Isn’t it? Or are you just trading names for fame now?”

Before you could respond, a new voice cut through the tension.

Cold. Dangerous. Protective.

“Step back.”

Yoongi was there.

His hand found yours—tight, possessive.

“She’s my wife. And if you say her name again, I’ll make sure the world forgets yours.”

You stared up at him, shocked.

But he didn’t look at you. His eyes were locked on Ayan, steel sharp.

And for the first time… you wondered if the contract between you two wasn’t as simple as it seemed.