The Mute Button

The moment Jaein stepped back into the house, black to the brim with cameras, the whole space brightened as if a switch had been flipped.

Well done.

That was lovely to see.

Keep it up.

Dinner had been nothing but an endless stream of encouragement aimed at Jaein.

I have no idea how the day even went by.

She'd blinked once at Cheongdam-dong, and somehow she was already back at the newlywed apartment. Habit had her halfway through a sigh before she caught herself, startled into stopping. She'd forgotten the cameras were rolling. Almost against her will, her eyes flicked toward the camera mounted at the end of the hallway, and she reached for the door nearest the entrance. It was then that a voice came from behind her.

"Why are you going in there?"

Jaein spun around, startled by Taeha's voice at her back. He had closed the distance without her noticing.

"I'm sleepy."

The room at the end of the corridor leading from the entryway was the guest room—her bedroom.

"I wanted to wash up and get to bed early tonight—"

Just as she spoke and pulled the door open, a hand closed around her wrist and pulled her back.

"That's what I'm asking. Why that room?"

Her body turned, and Jaein found herself caught in his gaze. His eyes crinkled gently, a beautiful smile spreading across his face.

"Our bedroom is that way, remember?"

Oh. Right.

It suddenly came back to her—they had combined bedrooms for the show.

"Get your things in there right now. We're supposed to be living together if we're filming this."

"Fine. Let's combine bedrooms first, then. We're married, so obviously we should sleep together."

"Good. That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say."

Why did I have to open my mouth. My own worst enemy.

While Jaein stood there, flustered, lips opening and closing uselessly, he swung the half-open door shut. As if to say separate bedrooms were not even to be dreamed of, Taeha closed it without a flicker of hesitation.

"Anyone watching would think we sleep apart."

At his sly addition, delivered with a sidelong smile, Jaein forced a laugh of her own.

"Ha, hahaha."

Unlike his, which came effortlessly, her smile was stiff as cardboard.

"Wh-why would we? For the first time in ages it's just the two of us. Of course we should sleep right next to each other. Hahaha."

When she looped her arm through his, Taeha's face finally shifted into something satisfied.

"That's right. It's been five years since we've been together like this. Time we slept together again."

"………"

"For good."

"For good?"

Before she knew it, Jaein was sneaking glances toward the camera.

It's not 'for good' though?

Once the first round of filming wrapped, the cameras would switch off. She'd been counting down the days until the intensive shoot was over.

"So you mean 'for a while.' You can just say it like it never happened."

Taeha answered as if it were nothing and steered her toward the bedroom.

He's not actually planning to keep this up after filming ends... is he?

I certainly have no such intention.

But knowing the bulldozer Taeha had become lately, the possibility loomed plenty large enough to be a problem in itself. As the master bedroom drew steadily closer, Jaein's lips parted in spite of herself.

"Sun—... Taeha."

She forced his name out—and right then his phone lit up with an unfamiliar ringtone. He glanced at the screen, then shoved the phone into his back pocket with a careless motion. If she wasn't mistaken, that call was something Taeha could hardly afford to refuse.

"Your phone's ringing. You should take it."

At her words, he hesitated for a moment.

"It's your mother, isn't it?"

"I don't need to answer."

"Still, it's her birthday. That would be a bit much, don't you think?"

After the way she'd dropped that bombshell at Cheongdam-dong, Junhee had been weighing on Jaein's mind. The woman thought little of her, sure—but bringing a film crew into the house on her birthday felt like it might have crossed a line. If anyone found out, they'd probably laugh at her.

Guts the size of a bean—how does she expect to pull off a divorce?

"Go ahead and take your time."

It would be one thing if she had to answer Junhee's call. The one picking up was her sunbae, not her—so what did it matter? Jaein said as much and turned away, then remembered something and stepped back toward him.

"I'll turn this off for a minute."

She reached behind his back for the small device clipped there. The positioning was mortifyingly intimate, but a soft click came, and the mute switch flipped off. It was the transmitter button.

"You're allowed to just turn it off whenever you want?"

His voice seeped into her ear from far too close. She lifted her head, still pressed against him, and shrugged.

"Who's going to say anything? You're Woo Taeha, after all. I wouldn't make a habit of it, but business calls and anything important you can skip. And as a special exception, when you go to the—"

Taeha was looking down at her, his gaze unbearably direct.

"—I heard you can turn it off... right?"

Reciting the manual on autopilot, Jaein suddenly registered exactly how close he was. The instant she tried to retreat, an arm wound around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

"You've made it, Seo Jaein. A real PD now."

"Five years in, and what is that supposed to—"

"It means my wife is impressive."

Taeha said it with a slow, shameless grin.

"Kills the mic like a boss. Very powerful. Suits you."

Then he dipped his head and pressed his lips to her cheek.

"I'll be right back. Don't fall asleep waiting for me, honey."

The soft, mortifying smack of the kiss filled the living room. Jaein stood rooted to the spot, watching him walk away.

He only turned off HIS mic. Mine is still on.

Which meant everything had just been broadcast.

Heat flooded her cheeks without mercy.

He's lost it. That man has completely lost his mind.

Why is he doing this to me?

She wished someone would tell her. Why Woo Taeha had changed like this. What on earth he was thinking.

Taeha quietly touched his lips. The soft, yielding warmth that had brushed them refused to fade. Jaein's eyes had gone so wide it seemed they might roll right out of her head—all he'd done was kiss her cheek.

Pfft.

The corner of his mouth curved into an elegant arc—and then his phone buzzed again in his pocket. At the saved name glowing on the screen, his smile froze for an instant.

"Yes. Speaking."

The moment his thumb hit the call button, a shrill voice came through the speaker.

"I did stop by to pay my respects."

The caller was Junhee.

Taeha's mouth twisted at one corner. So the filming had been the issue, as expected.

"Would you have granted permission if I'd asked?"

"Exactly. That's why I didn't ask."

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Taeha sank onto the sofa in the dressing room. It was the only space in the apartment without a camera—the bathroom aside. Not that it mattered, really; Jaein had already turned his mic off.

The demand to scrap the day's filming went in one ear and nowhere near touching him. But at the word Chairman, Taeha's brow twitched.

"When?"

His bewilderment at the sudden news of Byungho's return lasted only a moment. It was a reckoning he would have to face eventually.

"Good timing, then. I'll speak with him in person."

As Junhee's voice rose, Taeha held the phone away from his ear.

"I'm coming back tomorrow anyway. Tell me to my face then."

"………"

"And, Mother—let's not make a habit of calling me this late at night, shall we?"

He cut her off before the words had even finished crossing the line.

"Glad we're agreed. It's late—I'm hanging up now."

Having said his piece, Taeha pressed the end-call button without a hint of regret. Leaning deep into the sofa, he closed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

Ever since the chronic illness that had worsened with age, Byungho had crossed over to the United States and rarely returned to Korea no matter the occasion. And yet.

A sudden return, of all things.

He couldn't begin to guess what wind was blowing the old man home—but that hardly mattered. The only question worth asking was how he could turn it to use in keeping Jaein from divorcing him.

That, and that alone, was what Taeha was thinking about.