Chapter 11: Operation Marriage Manual
1640 Words
Sophia had faced many things in her life—lab explosions, corporate audits, and that one time a raccoon got into her dorm fridge—but nothing, nothing, could have prepared her for the “Marriage Survival Kit” now sitting ominously on her bed.
It was wrapped in gold foil and tied with a satin ribbon, with a note that read: To my beloved daughter-in-law, from your ever-supportive Mother Kang. May this guide you through the eternal maze of matrimony, and foot rubs.
Sophia blinked. “Foot… rubs?”
She untied the ribbon and opened the box.
Inside lay an explosion of pastel horror.
A lavender sachet wafted a scent that screamed "grandma's closet." Nestled beside it was a floral-embroidered sleep mask that said ‘Married and Mood-Swinging’, and a collection of books with titles that made Sophia want to climb out the nearest window.
She read the spines aloud in a daze:
"How to Kiss Without Feelings"
"Casseroles for Conjugal Success"
"Silence is Sexy: Let Him Think He Won"
"Foot Rubs: The Forgotten Love Language"
At the bottom of the box, a yellowed pamphlet flapped open with the wisdom of the ancients—or at least, the early '80s:
“A good wife never refuses a foot rub request. Unless he’s forgotten to take out the trash—then it’s war.”
Sophia let out a wheeze. “Is this a prank? Are we on a hidden camera show?”
Just then, the door creaked open.
She froze, caught mid-page of How to Kiss Without Feelings, with a highly questionable diagram on page 47. She attempted to slam the book shut, but of course, fate had better timing.
Ethan stood in the doorway, one brow raised, eyes scanning the scene.
“Well,” he said slowly, “this is... deeply educational.”
Sophia flushed from her collarbones to her hairline. “This is not mine. Your mom gave me a kit. She thinks we need help.”
Ethan leaned casually against the doorframe, amused. “Page 47, huh? I think that’s the ‘strategic lip pressure’ chapter.”
“You’ve read it?”
“Please. That book is a rite of passage in this house.”
Sophia stared in horror. “You mean—”
“I caught my cousin reading it in the pantry when I was twelve. Scarred me for life.”
She groaned and flopped face-first onto the bed. “This marriage is getting weirder by the minute.”
Ethan took a few steps closer, hands in his pockets, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You want a demonstration? I’m very proficient at emotionless kissing.”
Sophia shot up, grabbed the book, and threw it at his head.
He caught it effortlessly. “Feisty. That’s page 62: ‘When the Wife Shows Spirit.’”
“Out,” she barked, cheeks flaming.
He retreated with a laugh, leaving the door ajar on purpose.
***
Downstairs in the Kang headquarters conference room, Austin Min watched Ethan pace in a perfect five-step rhythm before spinning around to stare blankly at the espresso machine.
“Alright, Kang,” Austin said, nursing his triple shot. “Spill.”
Ethan didn’t look at him. “What?”
“You’ve been brooding. Which usually means mergers, hostile takeovers, or you’re in emotional denial. Which is it today?”
Ethan leaned against the wall. “She read the book, Austin.”
Austin blinked. “That book?”
Ethan nodded gravely. “Page 47.”
Austin whistled. “That’s when things get real.”
There was a pause.
Then Austin added, more seriously, “Look, man. I know this was all supposed to be about business. Contracts. Image repair. Whatever. But Sophia’s not a chess piece. She’s... kind of sunshine. Slightly chaotic, but sunshine.”
Ethan frowned. “I know.”
“She’s also scared. She doesn’t say it, but I see it. She’s adjusting, holding back, trying to make sense of all this—and you’re not making it any easier with the whole cold-and-sultry-boss act.”
“I’m not trying to hurt her.”
“Then don’t,” Austin said gently. “Don’t give her reasons to wonder if she matters.”
Ethan fell quiet.
Austin shrugged and stood. “Anyway, I’m off to flirt with the espresso machine. It gives better reactions than you do.”
***
Back in Sophia’s room, she tried to stuff the kit under her bed, but it refused to be ignored—especially when the sleep mask’s glow-in-the-dark lettering began blinking.
She plopped onto the bed, pulled the comforter over her face, and let out a muffled, “Why is my life like a soap opera, but with worse lighting?”
The door opened again.
“Dinner’s ready,” Ethan’s voice said.
Sophia peeked out. “Are there foot rubs involved?”
“Not unless you bribe Mrs. Kang.”
“Pass.”
He didn’t move. “Sophia… about earlier. I didn’t mean to tease. Okay, maybe I did. But it wasn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”
She studied him for a moment, uncertain.
“I think we’re both figuring this out,” she said finally. “And maybe... I need time. Space. And fewer pamphlets.”
Ethan nodded. “I can give you that.”
She gave him a faint smile. “But not the foot rubs?”
He grinned. “That’s reserved for anniversaries.”
“Ah,” she said, pushing past him. “Then I’ll start walking barefoot through gravel. Just to speed things up.”
***
Later that evening, after the chaos of pamphlets and pillow threats had settled, Sophia found herself sitting across from Ethan at the dinner table.
She didn’t know what stunned her more—that he laughed at her casserole disaster or that he looked good doing it. Real, unguarded laughter that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look… younger.
Softer.
Human.
And just like that, something shifted. Something warm and inconvenient curled in her chest.
Sophia narrowed her eyes at her fork, as if it had betrayed her.
Since when does Ethan Kang know how to tease?
She risked another glance at him. He was grinning, of all things, still shaking his head about the “strategic lip pressure” diagram. And that grin? That shouldn’t be allowed during meal hours.
She tore her gaze away. No. No, no. Stop that. This is a contract. This is temporary. Do not catch feelings over dimples and dad jokes.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, her five-year-old self clapped her hands and cheered.
Traitor.
***
After dinner, Sophia wandered into the lounge, needing air. She didn’t expect to find Mrs. Kang already seated there, wrapped in a silk robe, sipping ginseng tea under the glow of an antique lamp.
Mrs. Kang didn’t turn when she spoke. “He laughed tonight.”
Sophia blinked. “Excuse me?”
“He rarely does. You make him laugh, Sophia.”
Sophia shuffled awkwardly. “I... wasn’t trying to.”
Mrs. Kang finally looked up and smiled warmly. “That’s why it matters.”
Sophia sat down across from her. A silence stretched between them—comfortable, laced with something unsaid.
Then, in a small voice, Sophia asked, “Did you know? About the contract between us?”
“I knew it existed,” Mrs. Kang admitted gently. “I didn’t know the details. But I know why it was made.”
Sophia tilted her head.
“I still remember,” Mrs. Kang continued, voice softening with memory, “when you were five, you stood in front of my son, hands on your hips, and declared that one day, you were going to marry him.”
Sophia’s mouth fell open. “I what?!”
“You were very serious about it,” Mrs. Kang chuckled. “Said something like, ‘Because he’s smart, and I’m small but mighty.’ Ethan was horrified. He tried to hide behind the ficus.”
Sophia covered her face with both hands. “I... take it back. I curse my five-year-old self. May she trip on LEGOs for eternity.”
Mrs. Kang smiled, but her next words held a quiet ache. “I only wish Ethan didn’t need a contract to protect someone like you. I wish it had happened differently.”
Sophia looked at her, blinking.
“This marriage… was never just about image or business,” Mrs. Kang said. “Your mother and father didn’t just trust our family with your inheritance. They trusted us with you. This was supposed to shield you from those who would try to steal what was rightfully yours.”
Sophia’s throat tightened. “So, the marriage was meant to be… protection?”
“In the simplest sense, yes. But more than that, your mother believed in connections built with meaning. Not paper. Not performance.”
She reached out and placed her hand over Sophia’s. “You were born into a storm, but you’ve never once been a victim of it. Don’t let this marriage become another cage. And don’t forget—Ethan may pretend he’s made of stone, but I raised that boy. He’s just as breakable as the rest of us.”
Sophia stared at their hands, then whispered, “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Mrs. Kang looked at her gently. “Then believe in who you are. The rest will follow.”
***
Unbeknownst to them all, in a dark corner of the estate, a figure watched the Kang household from behind a hedge.
Tyler Park adjusted the focus on his camera. He didn’t smile. He just snapped one last photo—Sophia laughing with Mrs. Kang through a window.
He whispered, “You’re not safe yet, Min Hee. But I’ll fix it.”
And he vanished into the night.
- Writer
