The Hidden Heart 

Kim Taehyung was the most powerful and richest mafia boss in the city, Today, they were married, but it was a business arrangement, devoid of love. Taehyung was toxic and cold towards her, having a mistress he seemed to adore. On their wedding night, Y/N waited in his room, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and dread.

As Taehyung entered, his expression was hard. “You shouldn’t be here in my room, little wife. Get out. I’ll arrange a new room for you. Remember, this marriage is nothing but a business agreement.”

Y/N hesitated, her voice trembling. “But it’s our wedding night.”

His expression darkened as he unbuckled his belt, growling dangerously, “You know what most wives do on their wedding night? They spread their legs and let their husbands take their virginity.” He laughed humorlessly. “You’re an exception. You’re not my real wife.”

Feeling the weight of unspoken emotions, Y/N’s heart ached, yet she moved slowly, accepting the silent truth: she would know her place in this marriage.

He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled chest marred by old scars. Sitting on the bed, he continued unbuckling his belt, his eyes fixed on her coldly. “You know what I’m going to do tonight?” he asked mockingly. “Nothing.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly hearing the clicking of heels on the floor.

Taehyung glanced at the doorway as his mistress entered, her hips swaying provocatively in a dangerously short dress. She draped herself over him, whispering sweet nothings that made him smirk, completely forgetting Y/N’s existence.

Heart heavy, Y/N turned and walked away.

His mistress giggled, wrapping her legs around him. “Baby, where were you? I missed you.” Taehyung smirked, unzipping her dress roughly. “Spread your legs, baby.”

Y/N retreated to her room, the weight of rejection crushing her.

*The next morning, during breakfast, the atmosphere was thick with silence.*

Taehyung entered the dining room, impeccably dressed as if the night before hadn’t happened. He sat at the head of the table, reading his newspaper without acknowledging Y/N.

She ate silently, stealing glances at him, wishing for a connection that never came.

The maid refilled Taehyung’s coffee, and he continued turning the pages loudly. Occasionally, he glanced at Y/N, noting her silence with a hint of satisfaction. It suited his preference for a cold, business-like marriage.

Once finished, Y/N stood up to leave. 

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“Don’t wait for me for dinner. I have business to attend to,” he called after her, his tone detached.

Y/N paused, turning to him. “Is that important? I wanted to have dinner with you. That’s why I’m asking…”

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, annoyance flickering in their depths. “Dinner?” He chuckled aggressively. “I don’t think so. As for business, it’s nothing that concerns you.”

Y/N looked down, nodding. The smirk on Taehyung’s face deepened as he leaned back, casually draping an arm over the chair. “That’s a good wife. Know your place and keep quiet. It suits you.”

Humiliated, Y/N turned away and walked to her room.

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*Days turned into months, and the cold, unwanted marriage became increasingly unbearable. Taehyung’s obsession with his mistress left Y/N feeling more isolated and alone. In an attempt to cope, she began writing a diary, pouring out her emotions and hopes in a space she thought would be safe. She titled it “The Hidden Heart.” *Taehyung came home late, drunk most nights, spending every weekend with his mistress. Y/N received no attention; he didn’t even sleep in the same room as her. One night, she overheard him on the phone with his mistress, his laughter echoing through the walls.

“She’s nothing, a shadow in my house. She doesn’t even try to make my life miserable; it’s pathetic,” he chuckled softly.

Y/N felt her heart shatter as silent tears streamed down her face.

*One morning, Taehyung entered the kitchen, finding Y/N in her usual attire: a simple t-shirt and shorts, her hair in a messy bun. He watched as she pushed her cereal around, dark circles under her eyes evident.*

“Are you sick?” he asked gruffly.

“No, just choked on my food,” she replied, trying to hide her pain.

But he noticed her trembling hands, and frustration bubbled within him. “For fuck’s sake, eat properly!” His harsh tone made her jump. “And stop coughing!”

Startled, Y/N nodded, her heart racing.

Taehyung observed her obediently try to eat, a strange feeling tugging at his conscience. Abruptly standing, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving her confused.

*Later, in the dimly lit mansion, Y/N called for the maid.*

The maid entered the grand living room, finding Y/N curled up on the couch, looking pale and fragile. “Madam, can I get you something? Tea?”

“Can you get me some water?” Y/N asked weakly.

The maid hurried to fetch water, noticing the pills in Y/N’s hand. “Madam, are you alright?”

Y/N nodded slightly. “Just feeling sick. Nothing more.”

The maid frowned, unconvinced. “You need to eat something. Can you manage some soup?”

Y/N nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. 

The maid returned with a bowl of chicken broth, gently nudging Y/N. “Open,” she said firmly, spooning the warm broth towards her lips.

As Y/N sipped the soup, she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. “I’m too tired of this. Maybe I will never get the love I’ve dreamed about…”

The maid watched Y/N crumble, her heart aching for her. 

*Later that evening, after a long day of feeling unwell, Y/N collapsed on her bed. The maid, noticing her condition, decided to call Taehyung and the doctor.*

When Taehyung strode into the bedroom hours later, he found the doctor examining Y/N and the distressed maid by her side. His stomach twisted at the sight of her pale, still body.

“Her stress levels are dangerously high. I don’t think she can make it,” the doctor said gravely.

The doctor checked her pulse again, his expression darkening. “She’s slipping into a coma. Her body has shut down due to extreme stress and the overdose of medication. We need to act fast.”

Y/N took her last breath, and the room fell silent.

*The doctor’s words hung in the air like a death sentence. Taehyung’s eyes widened in horror as the reality set in. The maid covered her mouth to stifle her sobs. The doctor closed his bag, turning to Taehyung, who stood frozen by the bed.*

“She was in depression,” the doctor said softly.

Taehyung’s world crashed around him. He had ignored her pain while chasing after his mistress. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

*After the funeral, Taehyung buried himself in work, but the emptiness lingered. One day, while the maid was cleaning Y/N’s room, she discovered the diary hidden under the mattress. Waiting for Taehyung’s return, she handed it to him.*

He took it, confusion etched on his face. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he opened it, the first entry catching his eye: “The Hidden Heart.”

As he read, his heart shattered..

*”I always loved you, even though our marriage was merely a business agreement. Even when you treated me so coldly, even while I watched you with your mistress, I never stopped loving you. I longed for a family with you, for your love and affection. I yearned to experience life both its joys and sorrows by your side. But it seems fate is cruel, keeping us apart. No matter where I find myself, my love for you will remain hidden deep within my heart. I’m so sorry for being your unwanted wife. Please, take care of yourself and find happiness with your mistress”*

*After reading the diary, Taehyung realized the depth of his mistakes—the loneliness he had forced upon her. He stumbled to her room, grasping the pillow that still held her faint scent.*

As he inhaled her fragrance, he broke down, collapsing to the floor. “My princess… I’m so sorry,” he whispered through tears.

*Years passed, but Taehyung remained a shell of his former self, ruling the mafia with an iron fist, yet his heart was hollow. Every week, he visited Y/N’s grave, sitting there for hours, talking to her headstone, his voice filled with remorse.*

“My love,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “My princess… I’m so sorry.”

*And as the seasons changed, so did the world around him, but the weight of his regrets remained, a constant reminder of the love he had lost.*

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