If someone had told me a few months ago that I'd be marrying Bo-ra for real—no contracts, no schemes, no clauses about keeping things platonic—I would've laughed. Or maybe choked on my coffee. Or both. But now? I'm standing in the hallway outside a bridal boutique, my heart pounding like I just ran a marathon in a three-piece suit.
Moments ago, Bo-ra stepped into the fitting room, holding her gown like it was some kind of sacred scroll. She shot me a wink before disappearing behind the curtain, and now I'm out here, nervously tapping my foot like a lovesick teenager.
I hear the rustle of silk. My head shoots up.
"Yul... are you ready?" she calls from behind the curtain.
I swallow. "Born ready."
The curtain pulls back. Time stops.
There she is—Bo-ra. My Bo-ra. Dressed in a flowing white gown that hugs her in all the right places and sparkles just enough to make her look like a literal dream. Her hair is pinned up with soft tendrils framing her face, and there's this shy smile on her lips that knocks the breath out of me.
I blink. Then blink again.
"You hate it?" she teases.
I take a step closer, completely dazed. "No," I breathe. "I think I'm gonna need a defibrillator."
She laughs and swats my shoulder. "Dramatic."
"No, really. You look... stunning. Like, fairytale-stunning. Like I-don't-deserve-you stunning."
Her cheeks turn pink. "You're so cheesy."
"Only for you."
I pull her into a gentle hug, careful not to wrinkle the dress. She leans against me, and I swear, for a guy who once didn't believe in love, my heart feels way too full.
Earlier that week...
I finally met up with my mom. We hadn't really talked—like, really talked—in years. But when she showed up at the hospital after Grandpa's surgery, she stood in front of me with misty eyes and a nervous smile.
"I'm sorry for leaving the way I did," she said, voice trembling. "And for not being there. I missed everything. But most of all... I missed you."
I didn't even answer. I just stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her.
"I missed you too, Mom," I whispered.
We stood there, hugging tightly, and for the first time in a long time, the weight between us dissolved.
And then—surprise of all surprises—Dad flew in from Paris.
He arrived with two giant suitcases, a gift for Grandpa, and a look on his face like he was ready to cry at any moment.
"I couldn't miss my son's real wedding," he said, pulling me in for a bear hug. "Not this time."
Even more surprising? He and Mom actually talked. Laughed, even. By the time dinner ended, they were smiling at each other like two old friends who'd just rediscovered what made them fall in love. I'm still convinced someone spiked the kimchi stew.
Over at Sung Enterprises, things were looking up. Bo-ra's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sung, were glowing with pride after the success of their expansion overseas. I'd never seen her dad laugh so hard over grilled pork belly.
"My daughter's marrying Kang Yul," he said, patting me on the back hard enough to dislocate a rib. "Maybe he's not too bad."
"High praise," I wheezed.
Seul-bi, Bo-ra's best friend and chaos incarnate, had one job: to cry at our wedding. But when she saw Bo-ra's engagement ring, she screamed so loud the neighbor's dog howled.
"I knew it! You're endgame!" she said, jumping up and down. "You look so happy. Yul, if you break her heart, I will break your face. With glitter."
"Noted."
Even Min-hyuk—yeah, that Min-hyuk—dropped by before flying back to the U.S. He asked Bo-ra if she was happy. She said yes without even hesitating.
"That's all I needed to know," he smiled. Then he gave me a handshake that felt a little like a warning... but mostly, it felt like peace.
Grandpa's surgery was a success. He's back to barking at executives like nothing ever happened. Aunt Byeol, on the other hand? Banned. Like, literally. Security has a photo of her at the front gate with a giant red X over it. Apparently, she tried to sneak in with a fake mustache. No one bought it.
Now here we are.
"Yul," Bo-ra says, pulling back to look up at me. Her eyes shimmer like stars. "Did you ever imagine we'd end up like this?"
"Honestly? No. I thought you'd hate me forever. Or worse, marry Min-hyuk."
She snorts. "You're such a dork."
"Your dork."
She leans in and kisses me softly.
And I know, right there, in that quiet boutique full of lace and satin and overpriced veils—we made it.
From fake contracts and forced cohabitation to real love and real wedding gowns.
No more pretending. No more faking.
Just us.
To be continued...