Min jae's POV
I had to glide. Soft steps. Shoulders back. Chin down. Elbows in.
Which was hard with a binder crushing my ribs and heels threatening to kill me.
After twenty minutes, my ankles hurt. My spine hurt. My pride hurt.
"Now bow gracefully."
I bowed like a malfunctioning robot.
"No," she said, horrified.
"Do you want me to break my spine?" I snapped.
"Try again."
I tried. Failed again. And again. And again.
By the fifth attempt, I was sweating through the wig.
Jae-hyun leaned against the wall, arms crossed, enjoying every second. "She's hopeless."
"I am literally two seconds from kicking you."
The instructor gasped. "Language!"
"Sorry. I'm two seconds from gently tapping him with my foot."
"No tapping," she scolded.
Jae-hyun snorted. "Even her threats are weak."
"Oh yeah? Come closer. Let me show you."
He tilted his head, amused. "Later. We're behind schedule."
Behind schedule?
Then I heard it.
Camera shutters.
A photographer walked in with assistants, light stands, and equipment carts.
My stomach dropped.
"Bridal photoshoot begins now," one assistant announced.
No. No, no, no.
I had survived measurements. I had survived makeup. I had barely survived posture training.
But photos?
High-definition, zoomed-in, exposed angles?
My hell had officially begun.
The photographer looked me up and down like he was scanning for flaws. "Pretty," he said.
It shocked me enough that I forgot how to breathe.
He then glanced at Jae-hyun. "Do you want couple shots now or later?"
"Now," Jae-hyun said.
I choked. "Wait….what? Already?"
He shrugged. "Better to get the humiliation out of the way."
I wanted to stab him with the mascara brush.
The photographer gestured to a backdrop. "Bride on the stool, groom behind."
A stylist hurried over, adjusting my dress straps. Too close. Too hands-on.
I swatted her hand away. "Stop touching me like that!"
"But your neckline…"
"Necklines are fine!"
I sat on the stool, knees together, fingers trembling. The lights were blinding. The heat from the lamps hit my wig, and I prayed it wouldn't slide off.
Then Jae-hyun stood behind me.
Too close.
I felt his presence before anything else. Menacing, warm, annoyingly tall. His breath brushed the top of my wig.
"Relax," he muttered.
"I can't. I'm on the verge of cardiac arrest."
"You're dramatic."
"YOU kidnapped me."
He placed his hand on my shoulder for the picture.
I stiffened so hard I heard my spine click.
His grip tightened slightly. "Stop acting like I'm contagious."
"You are contagious. With power and stupidity."
One assistant giggled and instantly went silent when Jae-hyun glared at her.
The photographer lifted the camera. "Okay. Smile."
I bared my teeth. More carnivore than bride.
"Not like that," he sighed. "Softer."
I attempted a soft smile.
It came out like I was suppressing a scream.
Jae-hyun leaned down. "Try not to look like you're at gunpoint."
"I feel like I'm at gunpoint."
"Good. Now hold still."
The camera clicked.
Click.
Click.
Click.
And with each click, my doom got bigger, sharper, more permanent.
At one point, Jae-hyun lowered his hand from my shoulder to my waist, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
He paused. "What's wrong now?"
"Lower altitude prohibited," I whispered urgently.
"What?"
"Hands. Off. Waist."
"You're wearing three layers of fabric."
"And underneath those layers is my anxiety."
He rolled his eyes and moved his hand back up.
The photographer adjusted angles. "Now, groom, lean in closer. Bride, lift your chin."
I lifted my chin.
Too high.
"Not that much," the photographer snapped.
I lowered.
"Not that low."
"Oh my God, just tell me the exact centimeter!"
Jae-hyun snickered under his breath.
The photographer frowned. "No laughing please. This is a serious shoot."
"Tell him that," I muttered.
The photographer cleared his throat. "Now a laughing pose. Natural laughter. Look at each other."
I stared at Jae-hyun.
He stared back, expression blank but eyes sharp.
"Laugh," the photographer ordered.
"What's funny?" I asked.
"Everything," Jae-hyun replied dryly.
Our eyes met. He looked irritated. I looked miserable. Somehow the photographer took that as "romantic tension."
Click.
Click.
Click.
Then came the worst part; the close-up shots.
The lens was inches from my face. I could feel the heat of the camera.
"Relax your jaw," the photographer instructed.
I tried.
"Not that much. You look like you're screaming silently."
"I am screaming silently."
"Bride, smile with your eyes."
"What does that even mean?!"
Jae-hyun muttered, "It means don't look dead."
I shot him a glare. "I'm being kidnapped and forced into marriage. Dead is my brand right now."
"Stop talking," the photographer groaned.
I sucked in a breath and tried to pose.
Click.
Then I made the mistake of turning slightly.
The binder pressed hard against my ribs. My chest constricted, breath hitching.
"Are you okay?" the photographer asked.
No.
"Yes," I croaked.
Jae-hyun looked down at me. "Don't pass out. I don't have time to deal with that."
"Gee, thanks, husband of the year."
The photoshoot dragged on forever.
Different angles. Different poses. At some point they gave me a bouquet bigger than my dignity. I looked like a scared ferret trying to hold a garden.
Finally, finally, the photographer stepped back.
"That's enough for today," he said.
I slumped in relief.
Then he added:
"We will continue tomorrow. Morning. Full body shots."
I died a little inside.
Full body shots meant… exposure risks. Binder risks. Silhouette risks.
Jae-hyun turned to me. "You heard him. Don't oversleep."
I stared at him, exhausted, shaking.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked quietly.
He looked down at me, eyes calm, voice cold.
"Because I refuse to call off the wedding. And because you owe me."
"For one night?" I snapped. "For something I can't even remember?"
"For disrespect."
His voice dropped lower.
"For walking away like I was nothing."
I swallowed hard.
"That's petty."
He smirked. "I know."
He walked out.
I remained frozen in the chair while the stylists began cleaning the room.
My makeup was heavy. My wig itched. My binder hurt. My dignity was somewhere on the floor.
My hell wasn't coming.
It was already here