Red Bottoms

Your parents had always taught you the same thing when you were young. "Once he takes that kiss, he has to marry you. He takes responsibility for you forever." You used to think it was an old-fashioned superstition. Something your father said to scare you away from boys. You never expected it to become your reality. It happened at a business party. Your father, Adan, and his father, Edgar, have been business partners for years, which meant you had crossed paths with him countless times. Yet the two of you had never been close. Rafayel never cared about your presence, and you never tried to make yourself noticeable to him. He is simply too far out of your league. He is handsome, wealthy, intelligent, and intimidatingly composed. Wherever he goes, people naturally gather around him. You have no interest in becoming another person orbiting around him. That evening, you happened to catch him standing alone near the balcony. He looked bored. A glass of wine rested between his fingers as he stared at it, seemingly contemplating whether he should drink it or simply leave it untouched. Then his eyes suddenly met yours. You immediately looked away. Unfortunately, he noticed. He misunderstood your expression. He thought you were looking at him as if you found him weak for hesitating over a single glass of wine. His pride apparently couldn't tolerate that. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted the glass and finished the entire thing. You blinked. What was that about? What you didn't know was that he has an extremely low tolerance for alcohol. One glass was enough to make him tipsy. That entire glass? A terrible decision. By the time the party continued, his normally cold and controlled demeanor had completely disappeared. He became unusually teasing. Careless. Far too interested in you. You were tipsy yourself, so when he suddenly stepped closer, you froze. You felt vulnerable and confused, but that didn't mean you liked his sudden attention. You tried to step away. He stepped closer. You moved back. He followed. Until, in one unfortunate moment, you both stumbled at the same time. Your foot caught against the edge of the carpet. He reached for you. You grabbed onto him. It happened. You stared at each other. Neither of you moved. Adan and Edgar. They had seen everything. That was your first kiss, and he didn't know. The next morning, you were summoned to your father's office. You already knew something was wrong from the moment you walked inside. Your father sat behind his desk with an unusually serious expression. Across from him sat his business partner. And beside him... Rafayel. He looked completely sober now. Adan folded his hands. "You have to marry my daughter." "WHAT?!" Both you and Rafayel shouted at the same time. Edgar merely sighed. "The two of you kissed last night." "It was an accident!" you protested. "I know," Adan said calmly. "But you know the family rule." Your face went pale. Rafayel looked equally stunned. "That rule is ridiculous." "It is still our family's rule," Adan replied. Edgar leaned back in his chair, apparently thinking the situation over. Then, surprisingly, he nodded. "I don't see a problem with it." Rafayel whipped his head toward his father. "Not you too, Dad!" "It strengthens our families' relationship," Edgar said matter-of-factly. "A marriage between you two would also secure several of our upcoming business ventures." You stared at them in disbelief. They weren't even pretending this was about love. It was convenient for them. A marriage would unite two powerful families, strengthen their partnership, and eliminate the embarrassment caused by the incident. Your future has apparently become a business negotiation. Neither of you has been asked whether you wanted it. You turned toward him. He stared back at you. Neither of you looked happy. * * * Despite all your protests, arguments, and attempts to convince your families otherwise. The wedding happened. You became Rafayel Jeager's wife. Rafayel became your husband. But marriage didn't magically make you love each other. If anything, it made things worse. You live under the same roof but remain strangers. You have separate bedrooms, schedules, and lives. You barely ate together, rarely spoke unless necessary, and never slept in the same room. Your marriage looks perfect from the outside. Inside the house, it's nothing more than a cold arrangement. Then came the worst part. His girlfriend. Yes. Your husband has a girlfriend. They had been together for three months before the marriage, and apparently, the wedding hasn't changed his feelings for her. Estella has absolutely no intention of disappearing from his life. She visits your house whenever she wants. She clings to his arm. She calls him by overly affectionate nicknames. She sits beside him during dinner as though you weren't even there. Every time she looks at you, there's that smug little smile. You hate her and hate the fact that your husband allows her to behave like she owns your home. But you refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing you upset. So you ignore them. You focus on yourself instead. * * * You're in the kitchen, carefully arranging the freshly baked pastries onto a plate. The warm, buttery smell fills the room, and for once, you're enjoying the quiet. That peace lasts about five minutes. The sound of heels approaching makes you glance toward the doorway. Estella walks in. She doesn't say anything at first. Her eyes immediately land on the pastries. Before you can stop her, she reaches over and steals one. "You - " She takes a bite. Her expression immediately twists. "Ugh. It tastes weird." You stare at her. "You just took that without asking." She shrugs, completely unapologetic. "I was curious." "Then you could've asked." "It doesn't matter. It's not like I wanted another one." She casually puts the half-eaten pastry back onto the plate. Your eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious?" "What?" "You just put that back." She rolls her eyes. "Oh, relax. It's just a pastry." "You're the one who took it." "And you're the one making such a big deal out of it." You step closer. "You came into my kitchen, took something I made without permission, insulted it, and then put it back. And I'm the one making a big deal?" Her expression hardens. "You've become awfully comfortable for someone who only became his wife because of an accidental kiss." Your jaw tightens. "At least I don't need to sneak around with another woman's husband to feel important." Her eyes widen. "What did you just say?" "You heard me." She steps toward you. "You really think you're better than me just because you're wearing a wedding ring?" "No. I just think basic manners aren't that difficult." She scoffs. "You're unbelievable." She shoves your shoulder. You stumble back, staring at her in disbelief. "Don't touch me." "Or what?" You push her away. Within seconds, the argument turns into a full-blown struggle, both of you yanking at each other's hair and shouting over one another. You gasp. "Are you insane?!" Then a sharp, irritated voice cuts through the chaos. "What the hell is going on here?" Both of you freeze. Rafayel stands at the entrance, his expression dark with irritation. His eyes immediately land on Estella's hand tangled in your hair. He strides toward you and grabs her arm, pulling her away. "Enough." "But - " "I said enough." Estella stumbles against him. Just like that, her entire expression changes. The anger disappears. Her eyes become watery. Her lips tremble. "She did it first…" You stare at her. Seriously? He looks at you. You open your mouth. "She - " She clings to his arm. "I only came here to talk to her. She suddenly became angry and hurt me." Your eyes widen. "What?! You're the one who - " "That's enough." His voice is cold. He looks at you with irritation, his jaw tense. "Why do you always have to make things difficult? You're my wife. You should know better than to get into something like this. Yet, you're acting like a child." She's hiding a tiny smile against his arm.