CHAPTER 62: WHERE I BELONG
The room is a mess, a chaotic landscape of fabric and frustration. Knit dresses, pleated skirts, soft blouses, cardigans, and low heels are strewn across the bed, a monument to my indecision. Hair ribbons, pearl pins, and delicate jewelry clutter the vanity. Nothing feels right—too formal, too casual, too stiff, too dull.
I groan and flop face‑first onto the bed, cotton and wool wrinkling beneath me as I cover my face with my hands.
"Ugh… what am I even supposed to wear to a baby shower?!" I mutter into the pillows.
The door swings open with a decisive thud.
In walks Taehyun.
He looks maddeningly composed, black shopping bags dangling from his hands like he already won a battle I didn't even know I was fighting.
"I got this," he says casually, setting them down with a sharp clack.
I peek at him through my fingers, eyebrows raised. "Oh? The Devil decides what I'm wearing now?"
He smirks, tilting his head, eyes glinting with that infuriating mix of charm and menace.
"I'm not the Devil. I'm your husband. And husbands take care of… troublesome little wives."
I groan again, burying my face deeper. "I don't need your help… I can't even decide—ugh!"
He drops onto the bed beside me, ignoring my protests. One hand snakes around my shoulder, pulling me upright just enough to make me face him.
"You've been stressing over this for hours. I won't let my wife show up looking confused. Not in front of everyone."
I squirm, cheeks burning. "I'm not… confused! I just… I don't know what's appropriate! It's a baby shower, not a runway!"
He tilts his head, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers dangerously close to my skin. "Then let me handle the runway. You just be the gorgeous wife I chose."
"I… I don't need you—" I start, but the unwavering confidence in his gaze stops me mid-sentence.
He leans closer, his smirk knowing. "Oh, I know. But you want me, don't you?"
I gasp softly, completely flustered. He's already holding up a dress from the bags—a pastel hanbok-inspired dress with a soft chiffon top and pleated skirt, paired with a light cardigan, low heels, and a delicate hairpin. "Try this. Trust me."
"Hmmph… fine…" I grumble, muttering under my breath, "…you better not make me look like a fool."
He grins, that smug, teasing grin that always makes my knees weak. "I don't make fools. I only make my wife unforgettable."
I roll my eyes, but I can't stop the faint blush creeping up my neck. This is going to be a long, slightly torturous, but undeniably fun day with him by my side.
The moment we step into the house, I feel Taehyun stiffen beside me. His hand brushes lightly against mine—not a touch to comfort, but a silent reminder. I'm his. Tension radiates from him, his gaze flicking over the room, sizing up anyone who dares to glance my way. My husband is… already territorial, and I can feel it crawling up my spine.
I glance down at myself—the pastel dress flows elegantly, the cardigan light against my shoulders, my hair half-tied with the ribbon he chose. I feel… good. Poised. But my eyes are drawn to Jihan's wife, standing at the center of her guests, glowing in a soft lavender maternity dress, cardigan loose, hands resting protectively over her belly. Warm. Calm. Familiar in a way I can't explain.
I step forward.
"Hey! You look amazing," I say softly, wrapping my arms around her in a warm hug. Her scent—sweet and floral—mingles with her warmth. Her hug feels different: heartfelt, genuine, soothing.
She smiles, eyes bright. "Thank you! And you… you look gorgeous! That outfit is perfect on you!"
I blush slightly, smoothing the fabric.
Taehyun, however, is not ignoring anything. He's standing close, subtle but firm. His hand brushes against my back when I lean into her hug. His jaw tightens just enough that I know he's aware of every glance.
As we pull back, Jihan's wife laughs lightly, placing a hand on her belly. "I'm so happy you could come! And… your husband seems… protective, huh?"
I glance at Taehyun. He's smirking faintly, cold eyes scanning the room.
"He's mine," I whisper under my breath, not needing to clarify further.
The warmth of the moment, her glow, Taehyun's silent claiming… it all mingles in my chest. And as I watch Jihan fuss over his wife, and Taehyun stand guard beside me, I realize I'm right where I belong… even if my mind refuses to admit it out loud.
The party is in full swing, soft music floating through the air. I'm holding my clutch tightly, but Taehyun is everywhere—standing close, his hand lightly brushing against my back.
"You look… irresistible," he murmurs, his warm breath brushing my ear.
I flush. His hand slides to my waist under the pretense of guiding me.
"No one is allowed to look at you like that."
I bite back a smile, feigning annoyance.
"Taehyun, it's a baby shower. Keep your hands to yourself—slightly."
But he ignores me, smirk widening.
"I like slightly. Makes you fidgety, unpredictable… adorable."
Jihan's wife glides toward us, glowing. "I'm so glad you two could come!"
Taehyun bows his head slightly, stiff but polite.
"Of course. She's mine. Always."
She laughs softly, then turns to me. "How are you feeling? Comfortable?"
"Yes, thank you. You look amazing," I manage.
Jihan approaches, placing a protective hand on her back, whispering something that makes her laugh. She leans into him, resting her forehead lightly against his shoulder. The sight is pure tenderness.
"He's been a gem," she whispers, brushing her hand over his.
Jihan smiles, then glances at Taehyun. "She's very lucky," he says softly.
Taehyun growls lightly under his breath.
"Don't flatter me too much… or I'll start claiming all the attention."
I roll my eyes, leaning into him slightly. Jihan laughs.
"We've got a handful here too, don't we?" he says to his wife.
"A handful?"
"You know… two strong personalities under one roof."
I nudge Taehyun. He just smirks, brushing his fingers over mine in silent warning. The party continues, and I realize something: even if I didn't want to admit it, being with Taehyun, in all his maddening glory… feels like home.
I've drifted over to Jihan's wife, her hand slipping into mine effortlessly. There's a familiarity in her touch.
"You're really gorgeous in that outfit," she whispers. "And your husband… well, he's… intense, isn't he?"
I nod, glancing toward Taehyun. "Intense is… one word for him."
Across the room, Jihan and Taehyun are deep in banter.
"You look like you're about to eat someone," Jihan teases. "Better you than me,"
Taehyun snaps back with a sly grin. "At least I have self-control."
"Self-control?" Jihan laughs. "You mean obsession. Don't sugarcoat it."
Taehyun chuckles, eyes flickering toward me.
"And at least I keep my obsession private… mostly."
"Mostly?" Jihan leans in. "That explains the glare I saw earlier."
Taehyun scoffs, looking slightly flustered.
"Mind your own business, Jihan."
Watching them, I feel a small warmth in my chest. Meanwhile, she squeezes my hand gently.
"I knew you'd come around eventually. You two seem… perfect together."
I glance at Taehyun and can't help but smirk. Maybe she's right.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I lean closer, my voice low.
"So… how did you and Jihan meet? Was it love at first sight?"
She laughs softly. "Not exactly. We just… clicked. There was comfort. Like I could be myself."
"And your parents-in-law? Aren't they strict?"
"They're traditional, but kind. It's a balance of respect."
"How do you manage everything? You're glowing!"
"I try not to overthink. I focus on what's important, and let the rest flow. I have a lot of love."
I nod, secretly wishing I could manage life that effortlessly. I glance at Taehyun—he's smirking, silently judging my curiosity.
"And Jihan? Is he… always like this? Gentle, protective?" "Yes. He's my best friend. We laugh, we tease, we argue. But there's always respect. That's the foundation."
"You really make it sound… perfect." "It's not perfect," she admits gently. "But it's ours. And that's enough."
Her words linger. I glance at Taehyun, knowing he's been listening the whole time, and smirk, anticipating his later teasing.
I lean in, completely absorbed as she tells her story.
"Jihan… he was persistent. At first, I didn't want to give in. I was stubborn, scared, insecure. I thought I wasn't enough." "But he never pushed. He found little ways to show he cared, to soothe my fears. He made it impossible not to notice him." "His parents… I craved that kind of family. I didn't have parents. But his… they were a home. Something real I'd never had." "The way he cared for me… I couldn't deny him. He gave me everything. Security, love, patience… And somehow, eventually… I fell for him. Completely."
I feel a pang in my chest—a mixture of awe and longing. I glance toward Taehyun, thinking he'd never lay his heart bare like that. My hands tighten around my cup.
She laughs softly.
"I still remember the day he proposed… I refused to believe it. But he showed me, in ways I can't even explain. And that's why I said yes."
I nod, barely breathing, feeling my own walls press tighter. Taehyun is watching, waiting. For now, I'm caught in the story, feeling a strange mixture of hope and envy.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting a silent prayer escape from the depths of my heart.
I prayed for her, for every woman like her—fragile yet strong, searching for love that was real. For every soul broken by the world yet still carrying hope. For every woman who craved warmth, for every heart that longed for a family… I prayed that they would find someone who saw them, who held them as if they were the only thing worth holding. Love that mended wounds, that built a home, that whispered 'you are safe.'
Every beautiful soul deserved a happy ending. I prayed, knowing the world was harsh, yet hoping that such tender, enduring love could exist.
And in that quiet prayer, I realized… I wanted her to feel it all. She deserved it. Every little piece.
The party winds down. Guests are saying their goodbyes. I cling slightly to Taehyun's arm, still mesmerized by the evening's warmth. He is steady, silent, but I feel the protective tension in his grip.
"You really know how to throw a party," Taehyun says to Jihan, a teasing lilt in his voice.
"I try," Jihan replies. "It's all for her. She deserves it."
Taehyun smirks. "You've got a good thing there. Don't screw it up."
"I won't. I know how lucky I am," Jihan says, glancing at his wife with soft admiration.
"And you… make sure your wife behaves while we're gone, huh?"
Taehyun's lips quirk, an amused warning in his gaze as he glances down at me.
"She's mine. But don't worry, I'll make sure she remembers it."
I roll my eyes subtly, cheeks heating. Jihan chuckles.
"You two… really. She's lucky, Taehyun."
Taehyun's eyes soften almost imperceptibly, giving me a subtle squeeze of reassurance. They exchange farewells with easy camaraderie.
Finally, it's time to leave. As we walk toward the car, I glance up at Taehyun. Despite all the grandeur, it's his presence that grounds me—a mix of comfort, frustration, and undeniable pull. I know, even as I cling to my stubbornness, that wherever we go next, he will be watching, protecting, teasing… and I will keep choosing him, even without realizing it.