AILA
He looks pained.
"What are you doing with her." He whispers to me in low Korean, shifting his hand to my wrist. He pulls me away, avoiding my stare.
But not before the woman behind me calls out in French.
"Don't tell me that she is the new one that I'm hearing about. She looks like she can't even hold up half her own."
His grip on me tightens.
And I'm blinking in confusion, as he walks me back towards my room. Just before we're out of hearing range, I hear her voice come again— more seductive.
"I'll be waiting. Come talk to me, will you?"
Taehyung flinches. And I feel it, the slight shaking of his hand against mine.
My eyes widen.
She'd said something bad to him, hadn't she?
"Are you okay?" I quickly say, looking up at him.
He looks back down at me, shadows under the angles of his face.
"...are you, Miss Aila?"
"Nothing happened. She said a few things, but I couldn't understand anyways." I say, giving him an easy smile to try and make things better.
He still looked shaken.
"That's good." He whispers, voice trailing as he stops at outside of my door. Then he softly touches his fingertips to my chin.
"Please. Will you stay in your room for just a little?"
"Y-Yeah. Sure."
"Merci. I will be back soon, I promise."
But as I look at his disappearing figure, the confusion in my mind suddenly clicks in realization.
Wait.
Was he going back to that woman?
_______________________________
TAEHYUNG
She gives me a smile.
And it feels like it's eating into my mind.
"You came." She says in soft French. "I knew you would."
"You've become even more beautiful."
Disgust shades my eyes when she purrs. This was the woman that had broken me, thrown the pieces to hell.
"Rosalie."
She tips her head, dark blonde curls spilling over her shoulder.
"Is there a reason you're here?" I growl, staring down at her dress. It's my own design— the one I'd given to her three years ago. When I'd been stupid enough.
"I came for you, of course. I'd hoped to find you, but found something even better."
"That girl."
My hands tighten when she touches her palm to my chest, fingers teasing at the line of the coat. Her lashed eyes flicker.
"Is she my replacement?"
I hit her hand away. The place where she'd touched me burns— burns like fire. How many women had I slept with just to forget about her?
How many times had I gone to sleep drunk?
"Replacement?"
I laugh coldly.
For so many years, had I let this woman rule over me.
"She is my queen."
"And I will do whatever it takes to make everyone see who she is."
________________________________
AILA
I jump up from my bed, rushing to the door to unlock it when I hear a knock. And Taehyung's there, breathing a little faster than normal. His eyes look like a mix of both pain and triumph.
I'm a bit breathless too, maybe from trying to get to the door so fast.
"Taehyung. Is everything okay?"
He kisses the back of my hand.
"Everything is fine, Miss Aila. I'm sorry for leaving you like that."
"I mean I'm fine, but you..." I blink at his expression. "Who was she? Did you know her?"
"A former model of mine." His smile is bittersweet. "She's no one that you'll need to worry about. It's clear who will outshine who."
The compliment is so sudden that it makes my cheeks blush up in flames.
But no— he wasn't right. That woman had singlehandedly been the prettiest woman I'd ever seen, her face and body both perfection.
He raises an eyebrow at my skeptical expression.
"Do you not believe me?"
I shake my head. "...she was just really beautiful."
His eyes turn darker. "Beautiful? She is, I have to agree. But she doesn't have what you have, no?"
A small smile tints his heart-shaped lips as he offers me a hand.
"Come, Miss Aila."
"Won't you like to see a bit of Paris?"
________________________________
He takes me to a small bakery tucked in the corner of the street. The entrance is barely visible, but he finds it easily as if he'd been to it a thousand times.
But the moment he opens the door, my eyes widen at the fragrant scent of warm bread and sweet cakes.
Even better than my favorite place in South Korea.
I'm about to take a closer look at a cutely packaged cake when a delighted call comes from
behind the counter.
"Ma chéri!"
And I see him smile warmly, towards a middle-aged woman who'd run out with a sweet expression.
"Tata." He says, hugging her back as she wraps her arms around his middle. But she quickly steps back, scanning him up and down.
"You gorgeous thing. I haven't seen you for almost two years!"
Korean.
My eyes widen at the sound of her accented Korean. Then she glances at me, her eyes wrinkling with a knowing grin.
"Your girlfriend, Taehyung?"
"No. My model, tata."
"Model." She repeats, dragging out the word with her brow still raised. And it makes me blush when she clicks her tongue skeptically.
"You've never brought one of your models to me before. She is such a beautiful girl as well."
I fidget with my fingers, not knowing what to do with having understood her.
But she bursts into laughter when she notices me looking down at my shoes.
"Korean, I see? I'm sorry, pretty one. It's just been so long since I've seen Taehyung with a girl. Especially after that one—"
Her eyes narrow for a quick second, before relaxing into sweet circles again.
"My, my. I'm going off on my own again, aren't I? Find a seat, you two. And I'll bring you some of my best macarons."
Macarons. I'd only seen them in the bakery back in Korea, through the glass. I'd just never had the courage to grab one of the adorable, expensive sweets.
"Miss Aila." His voice brings me back. "You look surprised."
"I'm a little surprised by how she can speak Korean." I laugh, hands clutching at the glass of water in front of me. "And she speaks it so well, too."
He smiles. "I taught her how, when I found out that she'd always wanted to learn. I would've never have adjusted to Paris as well as I did if it hadn't been for her."
"How...oh."
Of course. Just think about it— if I didn't have Taehyung with me right now, I'd be out in the streets panicking horribly.
"The show is in a few days." He says, making me tense up again. "How do you feel? I don't want you to be too nervous."
I laugh forcefully.
"I'd be really, really brave if I wasn't."
"Mon Dieu. Brave? You have already been enough of that." He says, and I find myself relaxing. "Tell me what's on your mind. What are you worried about?"
Me.
"Well, uh..." I press my fingertips together. I would've never talked to anyone about how I was feeling, not before Taehyung.
No one else had ever asked, either.
But him. He was nothing but calming with those gentle stares, the tenor voice that always put me at ease.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"I'm not worried." I say, a bit more firmly. I was going to do well— stand out from all the others, because he'd told me so.
I would do well.
And a faint smile touches his lips when I say that.