Monster's Arranged Esposa ( Taehyung FF )

Chapter 3

She moved around the kitchen, her every movement watched by his scrutinizing gaze, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over her. One moment, his eyes burned with a desire that sent shivers down her spine, and the next, they were filled with a cold, merciless anger that made her heart race with fear.

With trembling hands, she plated his breakfast, her movements slow and deliberate as she tried to ignore the weight of his stare bearing down on her. She knew she had to make it perfect, had to ensure that there was no room for criticism or complaint.

Finally, she placed the breakfast before him, a sense of relief washing over her as she prayed that it would meet his expectations. But as he smirked in satisfaction, she felt a surge of disgust rise within her.

Her stomach growled loudly, betraying her hunger from the day before, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of shame. But before she could even utter a word, he glared at her, his eyes filled with contempt.

"Didn't you eat?" he asked with feigned concern, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Or are you too poor to even afford a meal for yourself?"

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as his words hit their mark, each one a dagger aimed at her already wounded pride. She had thought she could endure his cruelty, but the reality of his contempt cut deeper than she could have imagined.

"I... I..." she stammered, struggling to find the words to defend herself against his relentless assault.

But he cut her off with a derisive laugh, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Pathetic," he spat, his voice laced with disgust. "You're nothing but a charity case, a burden on everyone around you."

Her heart sank at his words, the sting of his cruelty cutting deep. But he wasn't finished yet.

"You've become so poor that you can't even provide yourself with a decent meal," he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "I remember when you used to laugh at me when my stomach growled in hunger. Well, look who's laughing now."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

She had never felt so small, so insignificant, in her entire life. His laughter echoed through the room, mocking her poverty and reveling in her humiliation. And as she stood there, her eyes burning with unshed tears, she knew that she would never forget the pain of his words, or the cruelty of his laughter.

Her heart was heavy with humiliation when he cast a disdainful glance at the cup of tea before him. "This tea is cold," he stated coldly, his eyes narrowing with displeasure. "Get me another one."

Her hands trembled as she reached for the teapot, her movements slow and hesitant as she fought to control the rising tide of fear within her. She knew what would happen if she didn't obey his command, if she failed to meet his expectations.

But as she placed the fresh cup of tea before him, her hands shaking with nerves, he sneered at her, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. Without warning, he pushed the cup towards her, the scalding liquid spilling over the rim and onto her hand, searing her flesh with its heat.

She cried out in pain, tears springing to her eyes as she recoiled from the burning sensation. But he showed no remorse, no sign of regret for his actions.

"You clumsy fool!" he roared, his voice echoing through the room like a thunderclap. "You can't even pour a cup of tea without making a mess. You're utterly useless, a disgrace to anyone who knows you."

Her hand throbbed with agony as she struggled to compose herself, to push through the pain and the shame that threatened to overwhelm her. But his words cut deeper than any physical injury, leaving wounds that would never fully heal.

Albeit, watching her cradle her burnt hand, and her tears stinging her eyes, he showed no sign of remorse. Instead, he demanded another cup of tea, his tone icy and unforgiving. "Make me another cup," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

With a trembling hand, she forced herself to comply, her injured flesh throbbing with pain as she worked. She longed to tend to her wound, to soothe the burning sensation that consumed her, but she dared not disobey him.

As she placed the fresh cup of tea before him, her hand shaking from both pain and fear, he barely spared her a glance. "You're lucky I'm even allowing you to stay in my presence," he spat, his words a cruel reminder of her subservient position.

With a heavy heart, she watched as he downed the tea in one gulp, his indifference to her suffering a bitter pill to swallow. And then, without so much as a backward glance, he rose from the table and left for the office, leaving her alone with her pain and her shame.

As the door closed behind him, she sank to her knees, the weight of his cruelty crushing her spirit. How had her life come to this? How had she ended up trapped in a loveless marriage, forced to endure the cruelty of a man who cared for nothing but himself?

Her burnt hand throbbed with pain, a physical reminder of the abuse she had suffered at his hands. But it was the emotional wounds that cut the deepest, the knowledge that she was powerless to escape the prison of his cruelty.

With a heavy heart, she thought of her mother, lying frail and weak in her hospital bed, her life hanging in the balance. She had married him for her mother's sake, to secure the financial support she so desperately needed for her medical expenses.

But now, as she sat there, her dreams shattered and her spirit broken, she couldn't help but wonder if it was worth it. Was her mother's life truly worth sacrificing her own happiness, her own dignity?

As she wiped away her tears, a steely resolve began to take hold within her. She may have married him out of necessity, but she refused to let him break her. She would endure whatever came her way, bear whatever burdens he placed upon her, for the sake of her mother.