POV NABI
The Moon mansion was not a house; it was a mausoleum of marble and glass. Unlike my father's noisy opulence, this place exuded an aristocratic, icy silence that made me feel like a blot of ink on a white canvas. Every step I took down the main hallway, following Jaehyun's tall, determined figure, echoed like a reminder that I no longer belonged in my own world.
He hadn't said a single word since we got in the car in front of my father's house.
His profile, illuminated by the lights of Seoul through the window, had remained impassive, as if he were transporting valuable but troublesome cargo. "This is your wing of the house," Jaehyun said, stopping in front of a dark wooden door. "My room is at the end of the hall.
Yuseo's is on the floor below, and my parents are in the east wing. You'll have privacy, but I expect you to keep to the meal times. My father is strict about etiquette.
He opened the door and went in first, leaving my suitcase on a velvet rack. The room was huge, decorated in cream and wood tones, with a large window offering a privileged view of the garden. It was perfect, and for that very reason, it terrified me.
"Make yourself at home," he added, turning to look at me. His eyes scanned my tired figure, lingering on the small blue velvet bag I was clutching to my chest with almost violent force. "You look exhausted, Nabi."
"I am," I whispered, avoiding his gaze. "It's been a long day."
He didn't move toward the exit. Instead, he took a step toward me. His presence filled the space, making me feel small, cornered.
"What is it that you protect so fiercely?" he asked with undisguised curiosity. He nodded toward the blue bag. "You didn't let go of it the whole way here.
Is it jewelry? Letters from a lover my father didn't detect?
"It's nothing," I replied too quickly. My voice betrayed me, sounding high-pitched and brittle. "Just... personal things. Hygiene, cosmetics."
Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. A flash of skepticism crossed his dark eyes.
"Your cosmetics are in the large suitcase the driver brought. That bag seems to contain something else... heavier. Something that makes your hands shake."
"I said it's nothing!" I backed away, but my feet got tangled in the carpet.
Panic, that old enemy I knew so well, began to rise in my throat like a black tide. My breathing became erratic. In my mind, my father's voice screamed, "Don't let them see you as crazy! Hide it!" The pressure to hide Hayami, to hide my scars, and above all, to hide my diagnosis under the roof of a man I barely knew, became unbearable.
Jaehyun, seeing my agitation, tried to hold me by the shoulders to keep me from falling. But when I felt his touch, a spasm of anxiety ran through my body. I dropped the velvet bag out of pure defensive instinct.
Time seemed to stand still. The bag fell to the floor with a thud, and since it wasn't properly closed, its contents spilled out onto the neat dark wood floor.
Amber-colored bottles rolled across the floor. Cardboard boxes with complex chemical names-Lithium, Quetiapine, Benzodiazepines-were scattered like pieces of a macabre puzzle.
And right in the middle, the white envelope with the Central Psychiatric Clinic letterhead opened, revealing the bold word my father so despised: BIPOLARITY.
The silence that followed was absolute. I could hear my own heart beating wildly, pounding against my ribs like a caged bird. I stood frozen, staring at the mess at my feet, feeling as if my soul had just been stripped bare in the most humiliating way possible.
Jaehyun stood motionless. His gaze dropped from my face to the floor. He bent down slowly, with a deliberateness that made me want to scream. His long, elegant fingers picked up one of the pill bottles. He read the label silently. Then he picked up the diagnosis envelope.
"Nabi..." His voice was no longer cold. It was something much more dangerous: it was analytical.
"Don't read it!" I lunged at him, trying to snatch the papers away, but he was faster. He gently held my wrists with one hand while he finished reading Dr. Kang's report with the other.
"Bipolar II Disorder. Recurrent depressive episodes with hypomania," Jaehyun read quietly. His eyes met mine again. I was crying, hot tears soaking my cheeks, mascara running down my face like battle scars. "So this is the 'flaw' your father was talking about. This is why he said you had difficult days.
"Now you know," I spat bitterly, stopping my struggle. I collapsed on the floor, surrounded by my medications, feeling small and broken. "Now you can call your father and tell him the merchandise is damaged. That the Kwon daughter is a lunatic. Do it already! That's what he always reminds me."
I expected him to mock me. I expected him to walk away in disgust or call security. But Jaehyun did something that wasn't in my script: he sat down on the floor in front of me, crossing his legs with an elegance that contrasted with my emotional turmoil.
He began to pick up the pills one by one, putting them back into the velvet bag with an almost ritualistic calm.
"My sister, Yuseo, has a collection of stories," he said suddenly, without looking at me. "There's one about a princess who was made of glass. Everyone admired her from afar, but no one dared to touch her for fear of breaking her. She felt lonely, until she realized that glass, even if it breaks, can cut anyone who tries to hurt her."
I stared at him, confused by the change of subject. He finished putting away the diagnosis and handed me the blue bag.
"I'm not going to call anyone, Nabi. I don't care what these papers say."
"Why?" My voice was a whisper. "This complicates everything. Marrying someone 'unstable' isn't good for your company's stock. My father says I'm a risk."
Jaehyun let out a dry laugh, one that didn't reach his eyes.
"Your father is an idiot who doesn't know what he has in front of him. He prefers shiny lies, like Suyeon. I..." He paused, moving a little closer. His scent of sandalwood and rain enveloped me. "I prefer dark truths."
These drugs don't make you "crazy," Nabi. They make you someone who is fighting a battle that others cannot understand.
I was breathless. No one had ever spoken to me like that. Not even my brothers, who loved me but looked at me with pity. Jaehyun looked at me with an intensity that made me feel... seen. Not judged, but observed as a mystery that finally had a key.
"Suyeon didn't take pills," he continued, placing the bag on my lap. "But she was the sickest person I've ever known. Her soul was rotten with ambition and falsehood. You, on the other hand... you tremble because you feel too much. I'd much rather have a wife who needs lithium to sleep than one who uses people to climb the ladder."
"You're not going to use this against me?" I asked, clutching the bag.
"I could," he admitted with brutal honesty. "But I won't. Under this roof, you don't have to hide this. If you have a dark day, I won't send you to any hospital. But in return, I want one thing from you, Nabi."
"What?"
"Honesty." No more lies about cosmetics. If you're going to be in my life, I want to know who you really are. Even the part you're afraid to show.
I fell silent, processing his words. For a moment, I had the urge to tell him about Hayami, to tell him that his own sister read my thoughts every night on a screen. But the secret of my writing was too precious, my last refuge. I couldn't give it up yet.
"It's okay," I whispered finally. "Thank you, Jaehyun."
He nodded and stood up, regaining his mask of imperturbable tycoon.
"Get some rest. Tomorrow we have a formal dinner with my parents. Yuseo is excited to get to know you better. Try to eat something, you look too thin."
He headed for the door, but before leaving, he paused.
"And Nabi..." he called without turning around. "Don't ever say you're 'damaged goods' again. No one capable of feeling as much pain as you can be considered anything less than human."
The door closed softly. I sat on the floor, the blue bag pressed tightly against my chest, surrounded by the silent luxury of the Moon mansion. The secret of my illness was out, but instead of the destruction I had expected, I had found an unexpected respite.
Jaehyun didn't love me, I was sure of that. But he respected me in a way my own father never did. Still, as I put the pills in the nightstand drawer, I couldn't help but think of Mrs. Shin's look before I left home.
I knew that my truth was now in Jaehyun's hands, but I also knew that outside, in the shadows of Seoul, the mobster Taehoon and my stepmother were still weaving a web that would not let me escape so easily. My "madness" was now the weapon they would try to use to destroy this marriage before it even began.
I lay down on the huge bed, feeling the weight of the diagnosis in the drawer. For the first time in months, I didn't open my writing app. I just stared at the ceiling, wondering if Moon Jaehyun was my savior or just the guardian of a more elegant cell.