The room smelled of lavender oil, dimly lit with candles glowing along the walls. Soft instrumental music filled the air, relaxing, sensual. Tae lay face down on the massage table, her naked body covered only with a thin towel across her hips. Her tits pressed against the cushioned surface, her hair spilling down, skin glowing and flawless.

Tonight, she wasn’t the wife. She was just a client. And Jungkook wasn’t her husband — he was her masseur, hired to ease her tension.