The CONTRACT VOWS?

...(2 days ago)...

“There’s one last clause I had my legal team add,” he says softly, sliding the paper toward her.

She reads the line slowly:

> Clause 17:The wife shall fulfill all duties expected of a real wife in public and private, as required for the authenticity of the marriage—including emotional support, social appearances, cohabitation, and any responsibilities reasonably expected between husband and wife.

Aira blinks. “That sounds like…”

He cuts in gently, “I won’t force anything. Ever. But if we’re going to make this believable—to my family, to the world—you have to at least be willing to act the part fully.”

She swallows hard.

“What if acting starts to feel… real?”

He looks at her, something tender and conflicted in his gaze.

“Then we talk. No pretending between us. That’s the one thing I won’t allow in private.”

Her fingers tighten on the pen.

She signs.

And just like that, Aira Han became his wife—on paper, but maybe… not just on paper.

...(2 DAYS LATER)...

...(At rayan mom dad house)...

“You’re not even nervous,” she muttered to him as he stood beside her, flawless in a black suit, tie knotted with effortless precision.

“I’m always nervous around my mother,” he whispered back, lips barely moving.

She almost smiled—almost.

The door opened and a graceful woman in her fifties with perfectly done curls and pearl earrings walked out. Beside her, a stern but kind-faced man with sharp eyes followed.

Rayan’s parents.

“Mom, Dad,” Rayan said, his voice steadier than his clenched jaw. “This is Aira… my fiancée.”

Fiancée.

Aira stepped forward and bowed lightly, remembering her manners just in time. “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Han.”

There was silence. Then his mother stepped closer, scanning Aira from head to toe.

“You’re prettier than in the photos Rayan never sent,” she said at last. “And you have good posture. That’s rare.”

Aira blinked. “Um, thank you?”

Mr. Han gave a nod. “And she’s polite. That’s good enough for me.”

Aira wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an inspection passed.

Inside, the mansion was even more elegant than the outside. Chandeliers hung like frozen fireworks, and the tea smelled imported and expensive. She tried to breathe normally, but she could feel his mother’s eyes on her the entire time.

“How long have you two been dating?” she asked suddenly.

Rayan smiled like a seasoned liar. “Almost six months.”

Aira nearly choked on her tea.

“And you want to marry already?” Mrs. Han’s eyes narrowed.

“We’ve talked about it for a while,” Rayan replied smoothly. “She makes me happy. That’s rare.”

The words sent an involuntary flutter to Aira’s chest. She looked away.

Later that evening, as they drove back to the city, Aira stared out the window.

“They believed us.”

“They wanted to believe us,” Rayan said. “They’ve been waiting years for me to bring someone home.”

“And now you’ve brought a fake wife.”

“Temporary wife,” he corrected with a smirk. “Big difference.”

The contract was clear:

One year.

No romantic obligations.

Maintain public image.

No emotional involvement.

Clause 17: The wife shall fulfill all duties expected of a real wife in public and private, as required for the authenticity of the marriage—including emotional support, social appearances, cohabitation, and any responsibilities reasonably expected between husband and wife.

Too late for that last one, she thought.

Two weeks later, they were married.

No grand ballroom. No press.

Just a quiet rooftop ceremony, overlooking the lights of Seoul. Rayan wore a charcoal suit. Aira wore a blush pink dress she’d designed herself—lace cuffs, satin ribbon, soft tulle. It was dreamy. Elegant. And painfully beautiful.

They exchanged rings before a hired officiant and Rayan’s close friend, Leo, who winked at Aira with a smile.

When the man said, “You may now kiss the bride,” Aira panicked—but Rayan only smiled gently.

He leaned forward, whispered, “May I?”

She nodded.

He kissed her forehead.

Her heart stuttered.

After the ceremony, as the wind swept around them under the stars, Rayan turned to her.

“Thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to.”

Aira looked at the ring on her finger.

“Let’s see where the contract takes us,” she replied, half smiling.

But deep in her chest, something had already begun—something no contract could ever protect her from.

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