FAKE LOVE | JJK FF [COMPLETED]

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Try to erase myself"

---

I was certain Jungkook wouldn't last long with his charade. Sure he would have dropped it after a day or two. Convinced he would apologize and go back on his word, admitting defeat.

Well, I was wrong.

Two weeks later and he still acted just like he did on the first day, caring and attentive. Stopping whatever he was doing when I asked for a glass of water or food. Inquiring regularly if I needed a bathroom break or maybe a book from my room. Or the guest room, as he called it.

According to his stubborn being, my room was his room, and I wasn't about to sleep anywhere else if he had any say in the matter.

Not that I would complain about that. Sleeping with Jungkook had its advantages, that was for certain. Like waking up in his arms – or with him in my arms, head pressed against my chest as his arms circled my body protectively – and going to sleep in it.

I always loved to sleep alone in my bed, sprawled to my body's content and taking up as much space as I could. Now though, I couldn't imagine sleeping away from his warm body or his whispered goodnights. Couldn't take the idea of not pressing my head to his chest as his arm curled around me and he planted a kiss on top of my head.

It wasn't just sex, although that was really something. In those caring moments there were no expectations, no demands. There was not a contract or a deadline. It was just us. Jungkook and Hyejin, husband and wife.

I smiled, but was pulled out of my reverie as my said husband entered the bedroom. Loose jogger pants and tee shirt, barefooted. His hair disheveled from all the times he ran his hands through it, looking intently at his laptop screen.

He never looked so beautiful.

Don't get me wrong, he knew how to wear a suit. I absolutely loved when he did an all-black composition, the dark fabrics contrasting so strongly with his fair skin. It gave him a secretive air, beckoning me to unravel all his mysteries, starting by the layers of clothing.

But his simple attire made him look different. Not the oh-so-powerful businessman my father valued so much, nor the billionaire playboy every woman wanted in their beds. This carefree man walking barefooted around his penthouse reminded me of my brother's friend when I was a teenager. A much less famous Jungkook, but one that I loved nonetheless.

As he settled down beside me on the bed, I noticed his hands weren't empty. He had his phone in one and a folded piece of paper in the other. Making sure not to disturb the pillows in which my almost fully healed foot rested on, he extended the paper to me and leaned his back against the headboard like myself.

- It's almost lunchtime. – he announced, pointing at what I realized was a takeout menu between my fingers. – What are we getting today?

It was obvious this would happen. I was the one who had been cooking for the past months, and since I had been banned from the kitchen for the time being, we had gone back to Jungkook's habit from when he was a single man.

Ordering takeout.

I don't even want to know how many pounds I had already gained in these past weeks, but I couldn't be mad. The man was doing everything to take care of me and work at the same time, I was not about to bitch out on him because of the food.

Plus, I got to eat a different thing everyday. It was no sacrifice.

- Uhm, can I get a yakisoba? – I asked, running my eyes through the words but already dreaming about the gooey sauce, soft meat and perfectly cooked noodles.