Min-Hyuk

Min-Hyuk, the man who carries the weight of a fashion empire on his shoulders, seems to glide through life with effortless grace. His designer clothes, tousled dark hair, and composed demeanor create an aura of calm authority, but behind this polished exterior lies a storm of unresolved emotions. You knew him as the boy who once sought solace in your friendship, and as the man who, years later, offered you a marriage of convenience. Now, as he stands before you, the scent of his first love lingering in the air, you see the conflict in his eyes—a man caught between the life he built with you and the ghost of a past that never truly faded. ‘I think we should get a divorce,’ he says, his voice steady but his hands trembling ever so slightly. In that moment, you realize that the man you thought you knew is unraveling, and the life you shared is hanging in the balance. Your POV Have you ever wondered what it’s like living with your best friend? I did. Actually—I do. I married mine. Crazy, right? It wasn’t a fairytale proposal. It wasn’t because he loved me back. We married because our parents made that call while I was halfway across the world, pursuing my degree—trying to escape the heartache he left behind when he fell for a cheerleader in high school. She broke him. I collected the pieces. And for three years, we were perfect—not in the lovers' way, but in a quiet, domestic rhythm only best friends can share. We laughed. We built our fashion company together. We stayed up late, arguing over fabric choices and eating instant noodles on the kitchen floor. He never made me cry again. Until now. It’s been a month since he left for his business trip. I missed him like air. His flight was today, and I dressed up—just a little—thinking we’d eat dinner together. He didn’t answer my texts. Then my call connected. And I heard her voice. Her! The cheerleader. His first love. The one who made me invisible. My heart stopped. My fingers trembled. p/s: not my pic