CHAPTER FOUR : LIGHTS, CAMERA,LOVE
1222 Words
The car ride to the café was silent.
Malina sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, staring at the blur of Seoul streaming past the tinted windows. Outside, life went on—people on sidewalks laughing, horns blaring in traffic, neon signs blinking with promises. Inside the car, though, it felt like she was being driven to an execution.
Han Jiwon sat beside her, phone in hand, scrolling through messages. His profile was sharp against the morning light that bled through the tinted glass, too perfect to belong to a real human being. He hadn’t said a word since she’d gotten into the car.
Her chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to demand why he was doing this to her, but the words died on her tongue. Maybe because part of her already knew the answer.
The agency. The contract. The cage she’d signed herself into.
When the car slowed, her heart jumped. The driver’s voice cut through the silence. “We’re here.”
Jiwon slipped his phone into his pocket and finally turned to her. His eyes, dark and unreadable, swept over her carefully styled hair, the pale blue dress, the trembling hands she tried to hide.
“Remember this,” he said quietly, leaning closer. “Out there, I don’t hate you.”
Her stomach lurched. “What?”
“You’re mine. My girlfriend. The love of my life, if that’s what they want to believe.” His lips curved, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes. “And you’ll play along, or you’ll regret it.”
Before she could answer, the door opened. A rush of air and sound flooded in—shouts, footsteps, the click-click-click of cameras already firing.
Paparazzi.
Her pulse spiked.
Jiwon slid out of the car first, tall and effortless, the star they all came for. The crowd surged forward, flashes exploding like fireworks.
Then he turned back, holding out his hand to her.
The gesture was simple, rehearsed, but his eyes locked on hers like a command. Take it.
Her throat went dry. Slowly, she placed her hand in his. His fingers curled around hers, warm, steady, terrifying.
The cameras screamed.
Together, they stepped onto the sidewalk. The café’s glass doors loomed ahead, but Malina barely saw them. She saw only the swarm of photographers lining the street, the way strangers pressed their phones up to capture every angle, every second.
“Jiwon! Over here!”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“What’s her name?”
“Kiss her, Jiwon!”
The voices collided into a storm. Malina flinched, but Jiwon squeezed her hand tighter, guiding her forward. His other hand slid to the small of her back, firm, possessive, pulling her closer until their bodies brushed.
The world erupted again.
He leaned down, his breath grazing her ear. “Smile.”
She forced her lips upward, though it felt like her face might c***k.
Inside, the café was quiet, reserved only for them. The noise outside dulled to a muffled roar behind the glass, but the flashes didn’t stop. Through the wide windows, the paparazzi lenses stayed fixed on them, greedy and relentless.
They sat at a corner table, and immediately a waitress appeared, nervous but starstruck, bowing as she handed them menus.
Jiwon didn’t even glance at his. Instead, he reached across the table and took Malina’s hand in his.
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
“What are you—”
“Selling it,” he interrupted smoothly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. To anyone watching, it looked tender, even loving. To her, it felt like chains tightening.
The cameras outside went wild.
He tilted his head, smiling at her like she was the only girl in the universe. “You’re beautiful today.”
The words were soft, warm—an actor’s line whispered in a drama. Malina’s breath caught. For one terrible second, she almost believed him.
But then his eyes flickered, cold beneath the performance, reminding her this was all for show.
The waitress returned, hands trembling as she set down their drinks. Jiwon didn’t let go of her hand, not even for a second.
“How did you two meet?” the waitress blurted before she could stop herself. Her cheeks flamed red, but curiosity burned brighter than fear.
Malina froze. Her mind went blank.
But Jiwon didn’t miss a beat. He looked at Malina with a softness that wasn’t real, and yet made her chest ache. “Fate,” he said simply. “One stormy night.”
Her heart skipped. That was the truth. And somehow, hearing it from his lips like that made it sound like something more.
The waitress nearly melted. “That’s… so romantic.” She scurried away, whispering excitedly to the staff.
Malina tried to pull her hand back, but Jiwon tightened his grip, his eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t,” he murmured. “They’re watching every move.”
She swallowed hard, the heat of his skin bleeding into hers. “I’m not your doll.”
“No,” he agreed. His smile widened, for the cameras. “You’re my story.”
Outside, flashes went off like gunfire.
When their drinks arrived, he reached across to brush a strand of hair from her face. The motion was intimate, practiced. His fingers grazed her cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Her chest constricted. The world beyond the glass blurred. For a moment, she could only hear her heartbeat, thundering in her ears.
He leaned closer, his voice so low only she could hear. “Relax. If you keep trembling, they’ll know it’s fake.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She hated him. She feared him. And yet, the nearness of him made her pulse race in ways she couldn’t understand.
The meal passed in fragments—coffee untouched, cameras clicking, Jiwon’s hand never once leaving hers. Every smile he gave her was calculated, every glance crafted to look like love.
And yet, buried deep in those dark eyes, there was something else. A flicker she couldn’t name, something that wasn’t entirely acting.
When they finally rose to leave, the crowd outside erupted again. Jiwon slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as if she belonged there.
Then, in one fluid motion, he leaned down and pressed his lips against her temple.
The world exploded.
Cameras flashed, fans screamed, reporters shouted. Malina’s breath caught, her body frozen under the weight of his closeness. His lips lingered a second too long, hot against her skin.
And then it was over.
He guided her back to the car, shielding her with his body as the flashes burned white against the tinted windows. The door shut, the chaos muffled, and silence fell again.
Malina sat rigid, staring at her reflection. The girl in the blue dress, the girl with the famous boy’s arm around her, the girl kissed under a thousand lenses—she wasn’t her anymore.
“You did well,” Jiwon said quietly, pulling off his sunglasses. His gaze met hers, unreadable. “They’ll believe it.”
Her throat tightened. “And me?” she whispered. “Do you believe it?”
He didn’t answer.
The car pulled away, leaving the crowd behind, but Malina knew—this was only the beginning.
- Writer
