Don't Remember Saying "I Do"

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭 - 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟳

...

They left the club into the cool Seoul night, the neon glow of Hongdae reflecting off wet pavement from an earlier rain. His hand found the small of her back, guiding her through the thinning crowd, and she was laughing—why was she laughing? He'd said something about the humidity again, something dry and exasperated, and she'd laughed so hard she'd stumbled. He'd caught her. His arm around her waist, steadying her.

"Careful, Soju. The ground is not your friend tonight."

"The ground is never my friend. The ground is a traitor."

"Then hold onto me. I am slightly more reliable."

She did. She leaned into him, feeling the solid warmth of his body against hers, and let him lead her through the neon streets. They stopped at a pojangmacha—a red tent lit by a single bulb, steam rising from bubbling pots of tteokbokki and odeng. She ordered for them both, her Korean sharp and familiar, his Russian ears catching nothing but the music of it. He watched her eat, something soft in his expression.

"What?" she demanded, cheeks full of spicy rice cake.

"You eat like you are starving. It is... refreshing."

"I am starving. For dignity. And rice cakes."

He laughed. Actually laughed—a low, surprised sound that rumbled from his chest. She wanted to bottle it, keep it somewhere safe.

..

They walked on, the city blurring around them. And then she saw it. A neon sign flickering in pink and blue, buzzing with faulty electricity:

"24-HOUR VOWS — NO APPOINTMENT NEEDED." She pointed at it, giggling.

"We should get married."

It was a joke. Obviously a joke. A drunk, stupid, hilarious joke. Except he'd looked at the sign. Then at her. And something in his face had shifted.

"Perhaps we should."

She looked at him, shocked. "Wait, really?"

He chuckled. "Why not? You wish to prove you are not the 'understanding' ex-girlfriend. I wish to do something I have never done."

"Get married to a stranger in a neon chapel?"

"Exactly."

She should have said no. She should have laughed it off, hailed a taxi, gone home to her empty apartment, and her i********: stalking. But she was drunk. And he was beautiful. And for the first time in months, she felt alive. "Fine," she said. "But I'm not changing my last name."

His smile was wolfish. "I would expect nothing less."

Inside, a tired-looking woman in a bad wig presided over fake flowers and a plastic bouquet. A document was pushed toward her. "Sign here, dear." She signed. He signed. Their signatures side by side—his sharp and Cyrillic-influenced, hers neat and practiced.

"Do you, Shin Soo-jin, take this man—"

"I do. I do. Let's go."

"And do you, Maksim Morozov—"

"Da. Yes. I do."

The woman pronounced them married. There was no kiss. They'd already done that. Instead, he took her hand, and they walked back into the neon night, married and laughing and utterly, catastrophically drunk.

...

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟕

𝗧𝗢 𝗕𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗘𝗗!