One

His Pov

I stood before her. She glanced up, her gaze meeting mine for a brief moment before she returned her attention to her phone. "You're late," she muttered, her voice devoid of emotion.

I took a seat opposite her, a surge of frustration coursing through me. "I apologize," I began, but she cut me off.

"So, who's going to say no to this?" she asked, abruptly rising from her chair and gathering her belongings. "I can't say no, so it'll be you." She added.

As she stood, a slight commotion stirred around us. It was a Friday night, and the restaurant was abuzz with patrons. A movement as subtle as hers was bound to draw attention. People whispered and glanced in our direction, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and knowing.

I wasn't oblivious to the stares she garnered. I myself was no stranger to them. I wasn't bragging, but I had always been the kind of person who turned heads.

The situation, the entire setup, smelled of a bad rom-com. We were two people, thrown together by the whims of our families, forced to endure the farce of a betrothal. We were the antithesis of each other, two clashing planets hurtling towards an inevitable collision.

The fact that I was a little desperate didn't help. It wasn't the marriage I was desperate for, no, it was freedom. My grandmother, the matriarch of the family, had a knack for pushing my buttons. She knew my weaknesses, my vulnerabilities. And she had used them to manipulate me into this predicament.

My escape, it seemed, lay in the hands of the woman I hated most.

I couldn't let her leave. I reached out, my fingers closing around her wrist, the soft skin surprisingly smooth against my rough palm. "Sit," I commanded, my voice low and firm.

She paused, her eyes widening in surprise. "Huh?" her voice came out in a confused whisper.

I didn't let go. "I said sit. We need to talk," I reiterated, locking eyes with her. The intensity of my gaze, the unexpected firmness in my voice, seemed to momentarily stun her.

She slowly sat back down, her eyes searching mine.

The restaurant, with its symphony of sounds, was suddenly silent. The stage was set, and our story, however forced, had just begun.

"Come on," she said, her tone softening into a bitter resignation. "We've been enemies since kindergarten. It's not like this is some fairy tale romance. It's a no, plain and simple."

I scoffed. "As if I hadn't already figured that out."

"Honestly, I was going to say no the moment my mother proposed this whole thing. But, you see, I was in a bit of a predicament. A helpless situation, if you will." She paused, her gaze hardening.

"So, you came here to tell me that you're counting on me for this?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Hm you can brag to your friends, tell them you rejected me. It'll be a good story, right?"

Her words were laced with bitterness, tinged with a strange sense of resignation. It was a tempting offer, looking back on our history. The thought of boasting about finally getting one over on Y/N was undeniably amusing. Yet, there was something else simmering beneath the surface, a desperation, a concealed need.

And I knew why she was playing this game, why she was counting on my rejection.

Her though remained blissfully unaware of this. She thought she was just playing my pride, pushing my buttons, making me the bad guy. She didn't realize I knew her motivations, her desperation, the stakes she was playing with.

So, I decided to play along, to twist the knife a little. "Why would I do that?" I asked, feigning surprise. "Go against our parents? I mean, be the bad guy?"

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "As if you don't know," she spat. "Mother and yours share everything. Besides, information travels faster than wildfire. You're asking just for my confirmation, right?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. Her bluntness, her frustration, it was all so familiar, so much like the Y/N I'd known since childhood.

"Then I guess you know mine too?" I met her gaze, resting my forearm on the table, a challenge in my tone.

Her laughter echoed through the restaurant, a sound filled with both relief and a touch of despair. "Oh, I definitely know that!" She leans back and crosses her arms.

We both knew what the other was thinking. The stakes were high, the consequences enormous. And even with all the animosity, all the years of back-and-forth, there was a strange sense of kinship in this predicament.

Her laugh returned, but this time, it held a different melody. It was a laugh born of shared frustration, shared desperation, and perhaps, just maybe, shared hope. It was a laugh that said, "We're in this together, aren't we?"

The air between us, thick with tension, was now infused with a strange sense of camaraderie, a shared understanding of the precarious game we were forced to play.

"How about you tell them that you love someone else?"

"You want me to lie to them and say that I'm in love with someone else? Do you think they're going to believe that?"

"Why they can't believe that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Because they know me better than anyone. They know I've never been in a serious relationship. They'll see right through it."

"Yeah how could I forget about your repo in this field." She let out a frustrated sigh.

"Then they'll want proof, like meeting this mysterious person. And I can't exactly pull a girl out of thin air, can I?"

"I'm sure you can." She smirks.

Seriously!

I raised an eyebrow at her comment. "Oh really? You have a candidate in mind?"

"No I don't. Why would I? You're alone capable of doing that."

Definitely never leaving her attitude!

"You really think I can just find someone to pretend to be my fake girlfriend? Do you have any idea how hard that is?"

"Not more than marrying your childhood "enemy" I guess." She rolls her eyes and air coats the word "enemy."

Tho she have got a point there. But finding someone to play along with this charade won't be easy. They'll have to be good at acting and convince my parents they're madly in love with me and that's a lot of work. Plus why I should pay alone for her amd my freedom? Why she should alone come out clean? So he'll naa!

I leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers on the table, thinking for somthing... Somthing equal.

"What should we do then?" She breaks the silence between us contributing to the chattering around us.

I sighed and lean back in my seat. "I don't know. I don't see any other options beside marrying you or finding someone willing to play the part of my girlfriend."

I stopped and leaned a bit forward, resting my forearm on the table, looking at her, my expression was serious, cause I actually was. "And I hate to admit it, but the option of marrying you is starting to sound better and better."

"Better? In what sense?"

"Well, for starters, it would get our parents off our backs. We both get what we want, and our lives can go back to normal after we're married."

I don't know why I'm suggesting this. But life ain't an enemies to lovers book toop kinda story. So nothing will happen right?

Her Pov

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implications. Taehyung had just proposed a contractual marriage. Like a bolt from the blue, it had sent shockwaves through me, leaving me reeling with disbelief.

"You've lost your mind!" I exclaimed, my voice shaking with a mixture of anger and bewilderment. "Marriage isn't a casual affair. It changes everything!"

Taehyung merely shrugged, his expression unfazed. "I'm aware of that, which is why I suggested a contract. We go through the motions, pretend to be husband and wife in front of our families. But behind closed doors, our lives remain unchanged. And when the time is right, we file for divorce and go our separate ways."

His words painted a picture of a convenient solution to our families' relentless pressure, but I couldn't shake the disquiet that gnawed at me. "That's risky," I argued. "Deceiving our families? What if they find out?"

Taehyung's eyes locked with mine, a hint of amusement flickering in their depths. "They won't. We'll be discreet. Besides, desperate times call for desperate measures."

I took a deep breath, weighing the pros and cons. On one hand, this marriage would end the constant nagging from our families. On the other, it felt like playing with fire.

"Fine," I said finally. "I'll do it."

Taehyung smiled, a touch of relief crossing his face. "I thought you might say that. But remember, this is just a show. Nothing changes between us."

"As if I'd ever consider anything more," I retorted, trying to keep my sarcasm in check.

"Good," he replied. "We have a deal then."

The rest of the day was a blur. The meeting with him, a whirlwind of a decision, had thrown my carefully calibrated schedule into disarray. I had to juggle appointments, shift priorities, and ultimately, over-commit myself to accommodate his sudden request. The pressure was immense, especially as I was handling a crucial deal with a VIP client - the esteemed Park family, whose granddaughter's wedding was just around the corner. The responsibility of designing their exquisite diamond jewelry rested solely on my shoulders. There was no room for error, no room for second-guessing. A successful outcome would earn me significant brownie points, not just with Dad, but with everyone in the company. Brownie points were like gold dust in this world and who doesn't love that?

The meeting stretched into the late hours. The Parks, despite their demanding nature, were surprisingly receptive to my designs. Our visions aligned perfectly, the bride's wishes echoed in my sketches, and the finalization seemed effortless. It was a triumph, and I felt a surge of relief. By the time I arrived home, it was past eleven. My stomach growled, a testament to my skipped dinner, but exhaustion trumped hunger. I was about to head straight to bed when I saw Maya, one of our house help, standing by the door, her eyes bright with concern. She must have stayed up for me, I thought, feeling a pang of guilt.

"Maya," I called out, "I'm so sorry, you must be exhausted. Just a sandwich, please, I'm too tired to eat anything else." Turning, I walked towards my bedroom, my body aching for rest. After a quick shower, I felt a sliver of energy return. Maya knocked, and I took the sandwich she offered. The first bite was a revelation - a symphony of flavors, a comforting warmth that melted my weariness. As I finished the delicious creation, I decided to check my emails, a routine I wouldn't miss for the world. There it was, nestled amongst the usual correspondence, a subject line that sent a jolt through me: "Marriage Contract."

My heart pounded. It was him. The email was short: "As discussed, please find attached the draft contract for our 'marriage.' My lawyers have prepared it, and I've reviewed it thoroughly. Please read it carefully, and let me know if you have any questions. We can finalize it after your review."

This was not a contract based on love or commitment, but a contract based on mutual gain and a shared goal. He was ready. And maybe so was I.

I clicked on the attachment.