The moment I let my foolishness take control of me. Oh boy, I regret signing the contract.
The shrill sound of a trumpet blasted through my bedroom at six in the morning.
I shot up so violently I nearly snapped my neck. My heart raced, my hair stuck out like I'd been electrocuted, and for one brief second, I thought the apocalypse had finally arrived.
Instead, it was just Woo-jin.
Standing in the middle of my bedroom. Shirtless. Phone in one hand, volume turned to maximum, trumpet fanfare looping like some sort of cursed alarm clock.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I croaked, clutching my pillow like a weapon.
"Clause One!" he announced proudly, striding toward my bed like a conquering hero. "Good morning kiss. Daily. Mandatory."
I blinked at him, still half-asleep. "Are you insane? It's six in the damn morning."
"Love doesn't sleep, Dae-hyun," he said with mock solemnity. Then, without hesitation, he dove straight under my blanket.
"Woo-jin!" I yelped, scrambling backward. But it was too late—he was already there, warm, heavy, and annoyingly smug, burrowing against me like a cat.
"You signed the contract," he reminded me, his voice muffled against my shoulder. "Now pucker up."
I shoved at his chest. "I thought you were joking about that clause!"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" He tilted his head, blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "Come on, just one kiss and I'll turn off the trumpet."
"Turn it off first!"
"Nope. Payment upfront."
I stared at him, horrified. "You're blackmailing me with a ringtone."
"Technically, I'm enforcing legal obligations."
I groaned and shoved the pillow over my face, but Woo-jin was relentless. He tugged it away, pressed his forehead to mine, and whispered, "Kiss me, or I'll play it again."
The trumpet blared a second later.
By the time I escaped my apartment, I was already twenty minutes late, hair still damp from the fastest shower of my life.
Woo-jin, of course, was waiting right outside the building. Sunglasses on, baseball cap pulled low, dressed like he was in some "trying to hide from paparazzi" disguise that only made him more noticeable.
"Clause Two!" he shouted the moment I stepped out.
I froze. "Don't you dare—"
He beamed and strode up, lacing his fingers through mine before I could dodge. "No ignoring your husband in public."
I yanked, but his grip was iron. "Woo-jin, let go. People are staring."
"That's the point," he said cheerfully, tugging me toward the café on the corner. "Clause Two says you have to acknowledge me publicly at least once a day. And holding hands is acknowledgement."
I hissed through my teeth. "Clause Two is harassment. It's ruining our damn reputation."
"Here we go, reputation is more.important than your husband." ." He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest with his free hand. "How dare you insult the sanctity of our sacred contract?"
"Sacred—?!"
Before I knew it, he was already dragging me into the car and as usual he's the evil witty driver.
We reached the café before I could strangle him. He yanked the door open, ushering me inside like some lovesick gentleman, and announced loudly enough for everyone to hear:
"Don't mind us, just a husband making sure his beloved starts the day with caffeine!"
I wanted to die. I wanted a car to murder me. Right there, in the doorway, sink into the tile and vanish forever.
People were staring. The barista's eyes widened. A couple in the corner whispered furiously. Someone even pulled out their phone.
I dug my nails into his hand. "You're humiliating me."
He leaned down, voice warm against my ear. "Correction. I'm celebrating you."
Then he kissed my cheek.
Loud. Obnoxious. Smack.
The café erupted in squeals and giggles. Someone actually clapped.
"Woo-jin!" I snapped, face burning.
He just grinned and ordered two lattes, introducing me as "my shy husband" when the barista asked for a name.
By the time we sat down, I was one wrong look away from committing murder.
I thought surviving the café would buy me peace.
I was wrong.
Woo-jin slid the lattes onto the table, sat down across from me, and pulled out the contract like it was holy scripture. He smoothed the paper, tapped it with his pen, and said, "Clause Five."
I groaned. "You memorized them?"
"Of course," he said proudly. "I wrote them."
"That explains everything," I muttered.
He ignored me, reading aloud in a grand voice that drew the attention of at least two nearby tables:
"Clause Five: Weekly movie night—groom provides snacks and foot massages during horror films."
I almost choked on my latte. "Foot massages?!"
He grinned. "It's in the contract."
I snatched the paper, scanning furiously. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull. "You crammed this in at the bottom in size six font!"
"Small font still counts as font," he said smoothly. "Legally binding."
"Woo-jin, this isn't even legible without a magnifying glass!"
"Then you should've read it more carefully before signing." He winked.
I slammed the paper on the table. "I'm not massaging your feet!"
"Then you'll be in breach of contract," he said innocently.
I wanted to scream.
"Don't worry," he added, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I'll be gentle on you. You only have to do one foot at a time."
The couple at the next table burst out laughing.
My soul left my body.
By the time I dragged him out of the café, my dignity was in tatters. I prayed that would be the end of his "clause enforcement."
It wasn't.
That night, I was finally free, sitting at my desk, half-buried in paperwork, when a shadow fell over me.
I didn't have to look up. "Woo-jin. Go away."
He hummed, circling behind me. "Clause Ten."
I stiffened. "…Clause what?"
"Clause Ten." He slid the contract across my desk like it was a death sentence. "A kiss before bed. Mandatory."
I slammed my pen down. "Absolutely not."
"You signed it," he reminded me.
"I signed under false pretenses!"
He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Still counts."
I shot to my feet, backing away. "You're insane if you think I'm going to—"
He cornered me against the wall before I could finish. His hands braced on either side of me, his blue eyes gleaming with triumph.
"You already agreed," he murmured. "And I always collect what's mine."
My pulse skittered. "I—I didn't agree to this—"
"Yes, you did." His smirk curved slowly and dangerously. "Right there, in black ink. The groom promises one kiss every night."
"Woo-jin—"
He leaned in, lips hovering a breath away. My chest tightened, rage and panic warring with something I refused to name.
"Careful, husband," he whispered. "You break this clause, and I'll have to punish you."