HIS WOMAN| J.JK

Chapter 10

Mr.Jeon

"I understand," I replied softly, my own surprise evident in my voice. "But marriage is a serious commitment. Are you sure this is the right solution?"

Mr. Chen nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on a distant point as if lost in contemplation. "I've weighed the options, considered every angle," he explained, his words measured yet filled with a deep sense of resolve. "And despite my reservations, I believe this may be the best path forward for both our families."

His vulnerability and sincerity touched me in ways I hadn't expected. It was a side of Mr. Chen I had never seen before—a man grappling with personal turmoil while shouldering the responsibilities of business and family.

"But what about your daughter's happiness?" I pressed gently, concerned about the impact this arrangement would have on her.

A flicker of sadness crossed Mr. Chen's features before he composed himself. "She understands the situation," he replied, his tone tinged with regret. "Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

I couldn't help but admire his strength in facing such a difficult decision. It was a testament to his dedication and sense of duty, even in the face of personal sacrifice.

As the weight of our conversation settled over us, I realised the gravity of the situation. This wasn't just a business deal or a mere transaction—it was a convergence of lives, hopes, and futures intertwined in unexpected ways.

"Okay then, we will proceed to sign the documents." I said finally, acknowledging the enormity of the decision ahead.

Mr. Chen nodded, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension in his eyes. "Thank you for considering this," he said sincerely, his vulnerability momentarily giving way to a flicker of hope.

As I slid the documents across the table, the weight of our conversation hung heavy in the air. Mr. Chen's once stern demeanour now softened, his hands trembling slightly as he picked up the pen to sign the agreement we had discussed a week ago. There was a palpable sense of vulnerability in his actions, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation.

I watched as Mr. Chen signed the document with trembling hands, his usual air of confidence replaced by a visible gloominess in his eyes. It was clear that this decision weighed heavily on him, that beneath his stoic exterior lay a man grappling with inner turmoil and difficult choices.

As he finished signing, I took the documents and glanced at his trembling handprint on the paper. He hadn't read the documents, a fact that didn't escape my notice. I understood the depth of his vulnerability in this moment, the sense of helplessness that often accompanies decisions made under duress.

"I hope you're satisfied," Mr. Chen remarked sarcastically, his voice laced with bitterness as he slid the documents back across the table. "You've got what you wanted, haven't you?"

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at his words. The weight of our decision hung heavily in the air, and Mr. Chen's trembling hands betrayed the inner turmoil he was experiencing.

"Well, isn't this just delightful," I retorted sarcastically, matching his tone. "Who doesn't love signing away their future?"

Mr. Chen scoffed, his sarcasm cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. "Oh, absolutely," he replied, his voice dripping with irony. "It's every businessman's dream to watch their hard work crumble before their eyes."

The bitterness in his words mirrored the gloominess in his eyes, a stark reminder of the consequences of our actions.

"I know you didn't read the documents," I continued evenly, trying to mask my own discomfort. "But sometimes, tough choices must be made."

Mr. Chen rolled his eyes, his frustration evident. "Ah, yes, tough choices," he muttered, his tone heavy with scepticism. "Like sacrificing everything we've worked for on a whim."

His words hit home, a painful reminder of the gravity of our situation.

"I wish things could have been different," I admitted quietly, my own remorse bubbling to the surface.

Mr. Chen let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing in the silent room. "Don't we all," he replied bitterly, his gaze lingering on the signed documents that sealed our fate.

As he left the room, the weight of our decisions hung heavily in the air, leaving behind a sense of regret and a bitter taste of what could have been.

As Mr. Chen stormed out of the study, his frustration palpable in every step, I couldn't help but feel a surge of angst and sarcasm bubbling within me. His abrupt departure left the room echoing with the weight of our unresolved tension, a silent testament to the tumultuous negotiations that had just taken place.

"You and your daughter will not regret marrying my son," I called out after him, my voice dripping with sarcasm that matched the bitterness in his eyes. "After all, Chen, I'm a man of my word."

His response was a disdainful eye-roll, a gesture that spoke volumes of his frustration and lack of faith in our arrangement. With a resounding bang, he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving me to ponder the aftermath of our hastily finalised deal.

I couldn't help but smirk as I glanced at the signed documents lying on the table. It was a mix of satisfaction and irony—a bitter victory in a game of shifting alliances and hidden agendas. The ink on the papers seemed to mock the fragile balance of power and the fragile trust that had been shattered in the process.

With a sense of resignation settling over me, I reached for my glasses and leaned back in my chair. The weight of our decisions settled heavily on my shoulders, a constant reminder of the sacrifices made in the relentless pursuit of ambition and necessity. The air in the room was heavy with the lingering tension, a stark contrast to the facade of calm that I tried to maintain.

As I reflected on the events that had unfolded, I couldn't help but marvel at the complexities of human interactions—the layers of deception, manipulation, and compromise that defined our world. In the end, it was a game of strategy and survival, where alliances were fragile, promises were broken, and trust was a fleeting illusion.