Ara folded the paper carefully and slid it back into the envelope. Her hands were steady now, but only because shock had numbed her. The noise of the ballroom faded into a distant hum, as if the world had pulled back to watch her reaction.
"You should put that away," Jae-min said quietly.
"I already did," she replied, meeting his eyes.
"But I can't unsee it."
His jaw tightened. "It wasn't meant to hurt you."
"That doesn't change what it is," she said.
Across the table, the host continued speaking, applause rising and falling. No one noticed the fracture forming between them.
Ara leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You said this marriage was simple. Temporary.
Then why are there conditions about my career? About where I can live? About what I can say publicly?"
He didn't answer immediately.
That silence was worse than any excuse.
"So you were protecting yourself," she continued, her voice calm but sharp. "Not me."
"You agreed to a contract," he said finally.
"And contracts have limits."
She smiled faintly. "You told me it wouldn't touch my freedom."
His eyes flickered. Just once.
Yura's laughter drifted from nearby. Ara didn't look at her this time. She didn't need to.
"I don't need answers tonight," Ara said, standing slowly. "But I need space."
"Ara," he said, reaching for her wrist.
She stepped back. "Not here."
She walked away from the table, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the cameras.
Jae-min remained seated, watching her disappear into the crowd.
And for the first time, he realized—
This wasn't about the contract anymore.
It was about whether she would come back at all.