The next fortnight is a flurry of wedding preparations. Cake-tasting, taking measurements and planning occupy your every waking thought.
You don't see Yoonoh again after the event at the park, nor Doyoung, but you suppose the latter is too busy discussing plans with your father.
For some reason, the two of you are granted a special wedding licence, enabling you to marry within the upcoming week. They're usually only granted on special occasions so you can't help but wonder if your family's reputation has anything to do with it.
In some way, you are thankful for the accelerated process, because it means you don't have time to think everything through, to get lost in your emotions as you find yourself doing so often these days. It's always uncomfortable when the maids come in and find you with tears running down your cheeks. Sometimes you wonder if Doyoung has told everyone of what happened during the walk, because you're often treated as if you were a glass statue about to shatter.
Despite there being no connection between you and Doyoung, the one thing you both have in common is that you have no interest in planning the wedding.
With Yoonoh, you had imagined it to be a huge event taking place near your childhood home. You would probably get married in the church you frequented as a child, in front of family and friends, before spending the reception in the gardens. After that, the two of you would have embarked to the Jung Manor, your new home.
Now, it is up to your mother to arrange everything.
"And here," she beams at you, "is the dress!"
The two of you are in the living room with the modiste, who watches you two with a quiet assurance about her, confident you will like the dress.
And you do. It is so white it's blinding, with your favourite pearls embroidered around the bosom and down the sleeves. The sewing is just exquisite, creating a modest piece tailored to your every curve and when you reach out to feel the material, it is silky and cool beneath your touch, a blanket of wealth, maturity and gracefulness.
It brings tears to your eyes, ones your mother mistakes for happiness as she throws her arms around you in joy. The modiste takes the dress back with a satisfied smile on her face.
"It's beautiful." You choke out, overcome with emotion.
If only it were a different occasion.
"I'm glad you like it," your mother cups your cheeks happily, tears of her own suddenly sprouting. "You'll look stunning in it."
-
The wedding takes place in London with a small church hosting the ceremony and a neighbouring hall accommodating the reception.
A close-knit group of family and friends are invited. Cousins from both sides of your family turn up and embrace you happily. Grandparents marvel at what a fine choice of man you have selected, and not a whisper of Jung Yoonoh or Sara Kobayashi leaves anyone's lips.
Interestingly, no-one attends on Doyoung's side. The only information you have on him is that his parents are no longer with the living, courtesy of your mother, but it takes you by surprise when not even a single friend shows up.
The actual ceremony is a whirlwind of memory, reminding you very vaguely of a piano recital you'd performed at when you were young. The experience was so nerve-wracking you simply banished the recollection from memory. It's no different here, the only exception being with this occasion there is simply nothing worth remembering.
But no matter how much you were dreading your wedding day, what comes after could only be much worse.
Settled in the carriage with Doyoung, wiping away the last tears- a reminder of your goodbyes to your parents, you head to the other side of London to the Kim House, your new home.
"Here we are," Doyoung helps you down the steps and you look up at the house, tucked away behind an iron fence. "We'll be staying here for the remainder of this year, at the very least."
The door unlocks, revealing a smiling lady with a weathered face. From experience, you know she can only be the housekeeper.
"Mr and Mrs Kim!" She curtseys before making way for you to come in. The new form of address is foreign to you and uncomfortable, like a false label. "I hope the journey was pleasant."
"It was, thank you." You reply, once it becomes obvious Doyoung doesn't intend to.
"That's good to hear. Now, I have a quick tour arranged to get you acquainted to the house," she continues on, smiling expectantly at you.
You glance over to Doyoung, catching the eye of the housekeeper.
"Ah, Mr Kim," she turns to address him. "Your study has been tidied and is ready for you to continue work. We haven't touched much as per your request."
"Good." Doyoung replies, giving her a short nod before looking at you. "If you need anything just ask Mrs Lee here. She'll be able to help."
Then he disappears down the corridor without so much as a backwards glance. Turning back to Mrs Lee with a mixture of disbelief and surprise, you find she isn't perturbed in the slightest.
"A tour then, Mrs Kim?" She repeats.
"O-of course."
She begins showing you around, fixating on even the minute details about your new home. It gives you time to reflect on what had happened at the front door and how easily and she had received the news that Doyoung would be heading straight back to his study. Obviously, it was a common occurrence.
"This is your room." After showing you around, she opens the door to a bedroom, the last unexplored room upstairs. At first glance, it's slightly smaller than the one you have back home. Or did have. This is your home now.
It's relatively simple. A double bed, a dresser, a bedside table and a lamp. There's a closed door which you assume leads to the bathroom and then a wardrobe tucked away in the corner. The most promising feature is the windows, which are open to let the evening breeze in.
Upon padding over to inspect them you find they look out over the back of the Kim House, a quieter residential area with small gardens, merely for show. It's nothing like what you had in the country, but it's nicer than what you'd originally expected.
"What do you think?" Mrs Lee asks.
You hesitate for a moment, careful not to upset her but not wanting to lie. As your mother had told you multiple times, it was unwise to make an enemy out of the housekeeper.
"It's lovely. This place is certainly different."
"Ah, yes," she comes to join you by the window, albeit keeping a respectful distance. "I heard your old primary residence was in the countryside."
You don't question how she knows that. "It was."
"Well, London is definitely busier, as I'm sure you know, but I hope we can make this place to your liking. If anything needs changing, please don't hesitate to let me know."
A sudden thought overcomes you and you turn to face her. "Is this both mine and Mr Kim's room?"
"Oh," she pauses, "no, I'm afraid it isn't. You both have separate rooms, Mr Kim was quite clear on that."
"I see." You smile. "Would you be able to give me a minute? I'm quite exhausted from today's events."
"Of course." She straightens up. "I'll fetch some tea for you later."
Your smile thins at the edges although is maintained until Mrs Lee finally takes her leave. As soon as you hear the click of the door, you release a shaky breath whilst hurrying over to the bed.
It's hard not to collapse onto the sheets once you get there but somehow you manage. Still in your wedding dress, you try your best to sit up and fold your hands in your lap, taking some deep, shuddering breaths.
Mrs Lee's information shouldn't come as a revelation. In fact, you should be pleased you didn't have to share a bed with a stranger!
But that means every staff member of this household will know your marriage is a sham. How ever will you be able to face them all as the woman of the house?
You take another breath in, detangling a hand to wipe your eyes. There's no use crying about it now, not when you're already here.
-
As promised, you're brought a cup of tea an hour later. After that, you are summoned to dinner, the first proper meal at your new home since you arrived.
It couldn't be any more different compared to back at home. If you ever needed a hint that Doyoung was used to living alone, the refectory table is a huge giveaway. It takes up the length of the dining room with Doyoung seated at the far end. The only other chair is on the other side and you sit down in it reluctantly.
Just like your previous dinner with him, Doyoung doesn't speak. From what you can gather (with being such a distance away), he has that same notebook open in front of him. When he catches you looking he raises an eyebrow, issuing a silent challenge.
You won't rise to it, instead lifting your chalice and resuming your meal until Doyoung clears his throat.
"Have you settled in?" He asks, voice bouncing off the walls until it reaches you.
"Yes." You reply shortly, mostly out of politeness. "My room is lovely, thank you."
"Good." He looks back down. "If you need anything here, I'm sure Mrs Lee and the staff will be able to provide it. I spend most of my time in my study, but they will be available at any hour."
"Okay." You give a brief nod, mostly still processing his words. It seems what you'd previously thought is proving to be true. You and Doyoung will lead separate lives, forgotten to each other for most of the day. As your stomach turns, you chase away the feeling with another sip of wine.
That night no matter how much you try, you just can't get comfy in your new bed. It reminds you of when you were younger and struggled to sleep, so much so the governess would officially give up and your mother would have to take over. Though you'd get scolded the next morning, she'd always let you cling onto her and fall asleep cradled in her arms.
You release a shuddering sigh, the wave of nostalgia causing tears to prick at your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today. It had never occurred to you that you would miss your parents, but then again, it had never occurred to you that you would ever be in a situation as unlucky as this.
-
The next day brings a fresh, brand new start. A host of maids accompany you as you make your way down the corridor, scrutinising the interiors of each room with more intensity than yesterday.
It's clear most of Doyoung's other rooms are unused. There's not a lick of dust on anything thanks to the determined housekeeper, but the sofa in the drawing room sighs as you sit down, as if unused to any contact.
There's also an absence of life.
"Where's the piano?" You look around the room in confusion.
"We don't have one, Mrs Kim." Someone admits reluctantly.
The news comes as a surprise. You've never been without a piano and always expected any furnished home to come with one.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Kim, but no."
"Nevermind," you shelve the news and move onto the walls, scrutinising the paintings and decor before evaluating out any remaining rooms. Doyoung's study if something you gloss over, uninterested in speaking to him or disturbing his work.
"Well," once you're back to the drawing room, you turn to face your small group. "Is there anything Mr Kim is particularly attached to in this house?"
"No ma'am, nothing except his study." Mrs Lee replies. "We don't often see him come out of there."
You believe her words, you really do, but in that moment, curiosity gets the better of you, which is why you find yourself retracing your steps back down the hall and raising your hand to knock on the study door.
Entering before Doyoung gets the chance to respond, you're greeted with a rectangular room filled to the brim with books. Whether it was a dining room or living room before, any semblance is gone now except for a big desk and chair just in front of an arched window, where Doyoung is sitting and looking at you in confusion.
"Did you need something?" He asks patiently, a pen in his hand, paused in the air as if he was in the middle of writing.
"Yes, actually." You reply once you're done looking around. "I was wondering if you'd mind if I started to redecorate this place?" Then, out of the blue, "And will you be joining me for lunch today?"
The latter question is an afterthought but you see him pause and mull it over.
"No to both of those," he gives you one last glance before beginning to write again.
His lack of willingness irks you in a way you can't describe and the amount to which it does is surprising. Equally, his dismissal is infuriating.
"Well, would you mind if I redecorated this room? And are you sure there's nothing you want to keep?"
He glances up at you again. "You can get rid of whatever you want, so long as it doesn't include this room. I'd like this place to stay as it is."
"Surely this place could do with a tidy," you frown. "Are these all your works? They can't be."
"Of course not." He surprises you with a quick laugh as if you'd just told a joke. "I could write for my whole life and I still wouldn't be able to publish all of these. No, this is just my collection."
"But... you still write for money, right? It's your full-time job?" You shuffle closer. There'd always been the thought in the back of your mind that perhaps he had a different job, because making money off just writing was a rare occurrence indeed.
"Of course." He shrugs, abandoning his work entirely to face you.
"What have you written then?"
Clearly, Doyoung is taken aback.
"You really want to see?" He asks, almost in disbelief. When you nod, he reluctantly gets to his feet and heads over to the shelves with you trailing behind him.
The shelf he stops at is noticeably more barren, with less than a dozen books populating it.
"Here," he gestures to them and you pick the closest one up. It's titled Roses in Rome, which is intriguing enough to get you to browse through it.
You have no formal education in writing beyond what was taught to you as a girl, but you don't need any special skills to know Doyoung is a good writer. You tell him as such absent-mindedly, flipping over the pages to examine it further.
"It's mostly boring stuff about the flora in Rome," he says abashedly, scratching his neck. "They bore most people, so you don't need to be so kind."
"I'm serious!" You retort, shelving Roses in Rome and picking up another. "Hey, this one looks good too. I see why you've made a living out of this."
"I feel like you're joking with me," he gives you a sideways glance.
"I'm not!" You protest, snapping the book shut and turn to face him. Strangely, you are more annoyed at his modesty than his previous 'boring' nature. "Tell you what, let's make a bet."
Doyoung's interested, you can tell by the way he blinks at you, but he hesitates.
"It's not very ladylike to make bets."
"Come on, don't give me that! You don't even want to know what the bet is?"
"Fine." He relents. "If it makes you leave quicker, tell me."
You try not to let your smugness show at having the upper hand. "Well, if I read one of your books and wholeheartedly enjoy it, then you need to join me for lunch every day."
Doyoung pauses. For a moment, you think he's going to decline, but then, for the first time, his mouth tugs upwards in a reluctant smile.
It's pretty.
"Deal," he nods, placing Roses in Rome back into your hands.
-
You are alone for your meal, but you rather prefer it that way.
The serving maids glance at each other in confusion, yet none approach the table. A spread is laid out there, filled with the finest cuisine London can offer, but instead of directing your attention to the food, your plate has been pushed to the side in favour of a book, which you are currently engrossed in.
"Uh, ma'am?" Someone finally pipes up.
"Hm?" You flip a page, not bothering to look up.
"Do you have any requests for dinner this evening?"
"Not really," you hum back, not even pretending to think about it, "anything quick is fine."