The late afternoon sun draped golden light over the towering trees, their leaves rustling in the soft breeze like gossiping guests. Birds chirped lazily, half-singing, half-listening, as if even they were invested in the drama of the upcoming event. The Renewal of Vows ceremony was set to take place in Heartwood's charming garden area—a semi-private outdoor venue chosen to accommodate more guests, because apparently, love wasn't just between two people; it required a whole audience.
The Event Department team bustled about, zipping from one end of the venue to the other like busy ants. With a few days left until the actual ceremonies, they had wisely scheduled the dress rehearsal early—because, let's be real, things were bound to go sideways, and it was better to deal with disasters now than on the big day.
Eros strode through the lineup of couples, his sharp eyes scanning the schedule in his hands. He flipped a page, then stopped dead in his tracks. A blank spot. His brows knitted together. That was not supposed to be there. He glanced up at the spot where the missing couple should have been standing, then flagged down a nearby staff member, planting a firm hand on their shoulder.
"Where's the couple for Friday, 6 to 8 PM?" he asked, his tone that perfect mix of calm and vaguely threatening.
The staff member stiffened like he'd been caught sneaking a wedding cake sample. His fingers twitched against his thigh as he hurriedly checked his phone. "Uh—uh, they said they'd be here before call time," he stammered, tapping frantically at the screen. His face paled. "But I don't think they're gonna make it, boss. Husband got roped into an urgent meeting, and the wife had to rush to her kid's daycare for, something important."
Eros stared at him, one brow lifting, eyes wide with an expression that screamed, Are you kidding me right now?
The staff member let out a suffering sigh and bowed slightly before scurrying off to tend to other tasks. Meanwhile, Eros ran a hand through his hair, glancing toward the assembled couples. The morning, afternoon, and evening slots had their pairs lined up like nervous contestants, except for that one conspicuously empty slot. And of course, it had to be this couple—the ones kicking off the entire ceremony.
They needed to know their positions, their movements—how they would transition after the first two ceremonies that only had a few hours of break before another. Without that, the whole sequence would be off. With an exasperated huff, Eros ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than usual, and stalked toward the MC, who was busy muttering through his script with the seriousness of a Broadway performer.
He tapped lightly on the MC's shoulder. "Hey. The Friday 6-8 PM couple went MIA. Need a backup."
The MC paused mid-sentence, blinking as he turned to glance at the lineup. Sure enough, there was a suspiciously empty space where two people should have been standing. His lips pressed into a thin line, his brain already flipping through potential solutions. Then, suddenly, his expression shifted—eyes lighting up with the kind of mischief that made Eros instinctively wary.
"I'll take care of it," the MC declared, grinning. "Just make sure to have a staff member record it for the couple's reference."
Eros barely had time to process what that meant before nodding, relieved that this wouldn't turn into a full-blown disaster. The rehearsal rolled on smoothly. The first two couples for the Friday morning and noon slots took notes, corrected minor missteps, and glided through their practice like well-rehearsed actors.
And then came the missing couple's turn.
Eros crossed his arms, watching the MC expectantly. He had no idea what the guy was planning, but at this point, he wasn't about to ask. He had already put his trust in him—whether that was a good decision remained to be seen.
The MC stepped to the front, clapping his hands together. "Alright! Time for the last couple's ceremony during day 1. Bit of bad news, though—looks like they had, uh, urgent matters to attend to." He cast a dramatic sigh before turning on his heel and striding straight toward Eros.
Eros barely had a second to react before the MC gripped his shoulders. He froze. His brain short-circuited for a moment as he looked at the MC who went on dragging him in front where the couples were supposed to stand, then at the gathered staff, then back at the MC again, utterly confused.
What the hell is he planning?
"But no worries, because our very own Mr. Eros has graciously volunteered to step in for the missing couple!"
Eros' entire body stiffened. His eyes widened so much they might as well have rolled out of his skull. Come again? His mind short-circuited for a solid three seconds before an internal siren started blaring. WHEN did I volunteer for this?
Before he could so much as twitch, the entire crowd erupted into applause and cheers, their excitement bouncing off the trees, the stage, and right into his rapidly approaching existential crisis. The claps rang in his ears like a death sentence, sealing his fate before he even had a chance to object.
Eros let out a breathy, strained chuckle—the kind of laugh people do when their life is flashing before their eyes. He had half a mind to throttle the MC right then and there, but he figured murder might not go over well at a wedding rehearsal.
Just when he thought this couldn't get any worse—
"But of course, Mr. Eros cannot perform the demonstration alone," the MC added, dragging out his words like some reality show host. He turned to the crowd with a theatrical sweep of his arms. "He needs a bride!"
Eros barely had time to process what that meant before the question that would seal his doom was asked:
"Who wants to marry Eros?"
And that's when chaos erupted.
Screams. High-pitched, ear-splitting screams. The kind that belonged at a sold-out K-pop concert, not a formal wedding rehearsal.
Hands shot up in a frenzy, waving in the air like the world's most aggressive auction. Staff members, doctors, and even a few retreat guests practically launched themselves forward, shouting their own names like they were contestants on a game show.
"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"
"Me! Me! I'll do it!"
"Right here! I'm available!"
Eros barely had time to process the horde of volunteers before he noticed one particular woman jumping up and down, waving both hands eagerly—except she wasn't just any woman. She was one of the actual wives participating in the vow renewal ceremony.
Her husband, standing right next to her, slowly turned his head, his expression a perfect mix of playful betrayal and deep, deep disappointment.
"You… what?" he muttered, his tone somewhere between heartbreak and disbelief.
Eros watched the interaction happen with secondhand embarrassment so strong he wanted to physically step out of his own skin.
Meanwhile, he remained rooted in place, a helpless laugh bubbling from his throat, even as his survival instincts screamed at him to run. His hands fidgeted behind his back as he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to process the sheer insanity happening before him.
Is this bastard seriously putting me up for auction right now?
The MC, utterly unbothered by Eros' growing panic, continued basking in the chaos. "Wow! Seems like Mr. Eros is quite the ladies' man!" he teased, grinning as he poked Eros playfully in the side. "Look at all these lovely volunteers! But who will it be?"
Eros swallowed thickly and turned to his last hope for salvation—the Event Department team.
Please, he pleaded with his eyes, someone get me out of this.
The moment his gaze landed on them, every single one of them suddenly became very busy. Clipboards flipped open. Phones were yanked out. Random cables were inspected. Some even turned their backs altogether, acting like they hadn't just seen him begging for help.
Traitors.
The MC wasn't done yet. "Alright, let's see…" He dramatically pointed at one girl. "You?" He paused for effect, then shook his head. "No… Maybe you?" Another fake-out. "Wait! What about—oh, no, not you either."
The suspense thickened. The crowd was on the edge of their metaphorical seats, shrieking with every fake selection.
Eros, on the brink of death, felt like a deer trapped in headlights, he had a very bad feeling about whatever was coming next.
Meanwhile, at the far right corner of the venue, a group of doctors stood huddled together, watching the Eros Marriage Auction occur with varying degrees of amusement. Among them, Elara was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, both hands stretched high like a desperate student trying to get called on in class.
"Over here! Pick me! Me!" she shrieked, her voice cutting through the noise like a siren.
Beside her, Selene stood with her arms crossed, shaking her head at the sheer determination radiating from her friend. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, watching as Elara all but threw herself into the competition like a fangirl at a boy band concert.
Still, as pathetic as her friend looked, Selene figured she might as well help her out. With an exaggerated sigh, she uncrossed her arms, lifted a single hand, and started pointing at Elara like a hype woman at a talent show.
"She's right here! The perfect fake wife!" Selene called out, her voice cutting through the cheers as she waved toward the MC.
The MC, ever the showman, dramatically turned toward them, eyes scanning the area before his gaze landed on the two. The moment his finger pointed in their direction, the crowd followed, all eyes locking onto them like predators spotting fresh prey.
Eros, from his unfortunate spot at the front, blinked in surprise. The doctors were volunteering too? Elara? He had never noticed her being particularly interested in him—was he that oblivious, or was she just that good at hiding it?
"You!" The MC's voice boomed as he strode toward their corner.
Elara gasped, eyes sparkling with excitement as she grabbed Selene in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh my God, thank you—thank you, thank you, thank you!" she whispered rapidly, bouncing in place like a kid on Christmas morning.
Selene rolled her eyes but smiled, patting Elara's back as if sending her off to war. "I gotchu."
Straightening up, Elara turned to face the approaching MC, suddenly shifting into shy, demure bride mode. With a delicate movement, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, clasped her hands together in front of her, and started swaying side to side like a bashful schoolgirl.
Her lips curled into a coy smile as she widened her eyes—blinking slowly, deliberately, the universal signal for I'm cute, right?
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The MC announced dramatically, throwing an arm around Elara's shoulder. "Here comes the perfect bride for our dear Eros!"
The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers, clearly entertained. Elara playfully smacked the MC's arm, giggling. "Oh my God, stop! I totally didn't expect this!" she whined, though the giddy look on her face said otherwise.
Reaching out, she eagerly extended her hands, ready to accept the bouquet of flowers the MC was holding. This was her moment—the crowning moment of her spontaneous fake wedding dreams.
But just as her fingers brushed the petals, the MC casually sidestepped her.
And handed the bouquet to Selene.
Elara froze mid-motion, her entire soul momentarily leaving her body.
Selene blinked at the flowers now sitting in her hands, then at the MC, then at the very confused (and slightly horrified) Eros standing at the front.
The crowd gasped.
For a split second, silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then—
"WHAT?!"
Selene and Elara's voices overlapped in sheer horror, their synchronized shrieks slicing through the lively chatter of the crowd.
Eros, for the millionth time that day, could only stand there, staring, as the situation spiraled further out of his control.
Selene's brain completely fell blank. She stood frozen for half a second before her hands started flailing, pointing wildly between herself and Elara as if the MC had just read out the wrong name in an awards ceremony. "Me?! Why me?! Not me!" she spluttered, her words tripping over themselves in a frantic attempt to escape her mouth.
Elara, on the other hand, had gone rigid. Her entire body deflated as she crossed her arms, shoulders hunched forward in dramatic devastation. Her lips jutted out in a pout, face flushed a deep shade of red—not from excitement anymore, but from sheer secondhand embarrassment. The sheer betrayal written all over her face was Oscar-worthy.
From the front of the venue, Eros watched the spectacle unfold, his head slightly tilted. His expression remained emotionless, but there was a barely-there tug at the corners of his lips—like he was fighting back a smirk.
The MC, ever the agent of chaos, leaned in with his mic. "So," he grinned, dragging out the suspense. "Will you marry Eros?"
A wave of cheers erupted, the crowd now fully invested in this unexpected twist. A chant started.
"YES! YES! YES!"
Selene's coworkers, who had been enjoying the drama from the sidelines, jumped in on the teasing. "My ship's sailing!" one said with a gleeful nudge.
Selene's head snapped toward Elara, her eyes practically screaming help me.
But Elara?
Elara was sulking.
She stood stiffly, arms still crossed, looking like a kid who just got her candy stolen. She was still pouting, eyes narrowed, face twisted into something between sulking and pained amusement. She had gone from hopeful fake bride to tragic loser in a rom-com in mere seconds.
Then Selene spoke without thinking.
"No, I don't want to marry him."
The words came out too fast, too sharp—her instinctual response to get out of this situation. She immediately stepped back like a deer spotting a trap.
Eros' brow lifted ever so slightly. A scoff bubbled in his throat before he could stop it.
I didn't ask to marry her, y'know.
His arms crossed lazily over his chest, but there was something sharp in his gaze—like he was actually a little offended by how quickly she rejected the idea.
Silence fell.
One second.
Two seconds.
A full, painful minute stretched between them.
Then—
"Perfect!" the MC crowed, breaking the tension as if nothing had happened.
The audience exploded with cheers, roaring with cheers as if Selene had actually said yes instead of rejecting the entire idea with her whole chest.
Before she could even process what was happening, the MC shoved the bouquet straight into her arms, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Then, as if deciding she no longer had free will, he yanked her forward by the wrist.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we've found the perfect pair for Mr. Eros!"
Selene stumbled forward, her brain still desperately trying to catch up with reality.
Haha. When the fuck did I agree to this?
She twisted around in one last, desperate attempt to make eye contact with her coworkers. Surely someone would step in, right?
Wrong.
They were waving at her like proud parents at a school play.
Betrayal.
Selene, in a desperate bid to escape the situation, gave the MC's hand a few light taps—silent Morse code for get me out of here. Unfortunately, her message went ignored, as she snapped her head back forward, only to come face-to-face with Eros himself. He was watching her, one eyebrow arched, arms still lazily crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes.
She was left stranded beside Eros under the grand floral arch, the designated lovers' centerpiece of the venue. The whole scene felt like a twisted romantic comedy, only she wasn't in on the joke.
She scowled.
Her grip on the bouquet tightened.
What kind of bullshit had led her to this moment?
And why—after she had explicitly said no—was she now standing directly in front of Eros, being declared his perfect fake wife?
Clutching the slightly wilted flower in her hand as if it were a lifeline, she shifted her weight back and forth between her feet, her body radiating the kind of nervous energy that could power a small city. She refused to look at Eros. Anywhere but him, anywhere but him, she chanted internally, her gaze darting around the venue like a hunted animal. A thick lump lodged itself in her throat, her skin suddenly running several degrees hotter. Was it the spotlight? The pressure? Or was she just seconds away from combusting out of sheer secondhand embarrassment?
She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the subtle prickle of sweat forming at the nape of her hairline. The weight of a hundred expectant eyes bore down on her, and she knew—she just knew—that her coworkers were getting a kick out of this.
Meanwhile, the MC, in full theatrical mode, held up his hands and framed them with his fingers, squinting as if directing a movie scene. "Woah," he mused, tilting his imaginary camera. "They actually look good together. Imagine them at the altar for real."
A wave of delighted squeals and whistles erupted from the audience. Apparently, public humiliation doubled as entertainment.
The MC beamed, clearly proud of his matchmaking prowess. "Ahh, what can I say? I have an eye for matchmaking." Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he leaned toward the pair, lowering his mic just enough so only they could hear. "Don't worry too much—there won't be a kissing scene."
Selene and Eros went rigid.
Like a pair of malfunctioning robots, Their heads snapped toward him, eyes wide, faces hot. Selene nearly dropped the bouquet, and Eros—despite his usual cool demeanor—visibly stiffened for a split second. Flustered, Selene gulped. Eros cleared his throat, a subtle attempt to regain his composure before finally looking at her.
Alright, pull it together, man, he told himself. He had a reputation to uphold—an image of effortless coolness, even in the face of mild public mortification. With practiced ease, he smoothed over his awkwardness, slipping into his usual nonchalant persona. Selene didn't see it at first, but Eros took a deep breath, mentally resetting himself. His awkwardness? Gone. That moment of being caught off guard? Buried. A smirk crept onto his lips as he leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make it sound teasing—just enough to mess with her.
"Looks like we are getting married," he murmured, his voice dipped in amusement.
Selene, who had involuntarily leaned back like a cat avoiding an unwanted pat, stared at him like he had just declared them legally bound.
Too close. Way too close.
"My bride," he added with a low chuckle, clearly enjoying her distress. The way he said it—smooth, amused, with the smallest hint of mischief—sent another wave of squeals through the audience.
Selene barely registered them. She was too busy internally combusting. She side-eyed him, searching for any sign that he might be even a little flustered. But no—he was calm. Unbothered. Like this was just another work task. She hated how natural he made it look.
Somewhere deep beneath Eros's smug exterior, a small, unacknowledged thought surfaced—Selene being his demo bride? Not the worst idea. But of course, he'd rather swallow a cactus than admit that out loud.
The ceremony proceeded, and before they knew it, they were ushered back to the front for the next, dreaded step: the vows. They were officially halfway done. All that remained were words they didn't mean, exchanged for an audience who cared too much.
If Selene had thought the awkwardness had peaked, she was sorely mistaken. The entire process was an unrelenting gauntlet of unwanted skinship—arms linked, hands brushing, eye contact held for too long. Every brush of fabric, every unintentional graze of skin sent her nerves into overdrive. She felt like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap. And worst of all, they were being filmed. Documented. For eternity.
Yet, Eros? He remained cool as ever. Unbothered. At ease. Like he did this kind of thing all the time.
Selene snuck a glance at him. How?! How could he be so unaffected?!
Meanwhile, Eros stole a glance at her too, silently amused by her discomfort.
This was going to be fun.
The MC had assigned them placeholder vows, instructing them to act as the absent couple would during the Renewal of Vows ceremony. The classic vows—the ones traditionally spoken at weddings and the very ones Selene preferred—had been chosen for them to recite.
Eros, ever the observer, found himself thoroughly entertained by Selene's awkwardness. Her stiff posture, the way she flinched at even the slightest brush of contact, and the subtle panic in her eyes every time they had to face each other—it was all too amusing to him. For once, he wasn't the one feeling uneasy. If anything, her nervous energy was grounding him, settling his own restlessness.
As they stepped beneath the flower-adorned arch at the front of the venue, they turned to face one another. Eros' gaze remained fixated, drinking in every minute reaction, while Selene's eyes darted everywhere—anywhere but at him.
Then, as he reached for her hands, she instinctively flinched. Her sharp glare shot up at him, practically screaming what the fuck do you think you're doing? without her having to utter a word.
Eros barely suppressed a grin before letting out a soft chuckle. Leaning in slightly, he murmured, "We have to hold hands for the vows."
Selene stiffened before pressing her lips into a tight line, clearly embarrassed by her own reaction. Hesitantly, she extended her fingers, barely touching the tips of his as if the mere act of holding hands was a fate worse than death.
Eros arched a brow but didn't comment. Instead, he simply turned his attention forward as the MC's voice echoed through the hall, and without hesitation, began to recite his vows.
The placeholder vows were meant to be impersonal—a duty to fulfill in place of the absent couple. And yet, as Eros inhaled, preparing to speak, something in the air shifted.
His voice, steady and rich, resonated through the space.
"I, Eros De Luca, take you, Selene Baek…"
The moment the words left his lips, something inside Selene splintered. Her vision blurred. The world around her twisted, like ink bleeding into water.
Suddenly, it wasn't the retreat's hall anymore. It was an ancient temple, draped in flowing white silks. The scent of burning incense curled in the air, and before her stood a man—not Eros as he was now, but still distinctively him. His golden hair was unruly in the wind, his robe cinched at the waist by a delicate golden thread. His eyes, the same piercing shade, softened as he looked at her.
"I, Eros, take you, Psyche."
The words bled into another memory.
A different time, a different place. The candlelit temple melted away, replaced by a dimly lit chamber carved into the cliffs. Firelight danced along stone walls, casting long shadows. Eros was there again, but older this time, dressed in warrior's garb, his armor dented and streaked with blood. His face held exhaustion, yet his hands cradled hers with gentle reverence.
"In this life and the next, I take you, Psyche."
A sharp breath hitched in her throat as the scene flickered once more. A moonlit garden. The scent of night-blooming flowers clung to the cool air. He wasn't a warrior here—he was a prince, dressed in embroidered finery, dark curls falling over his forehead as he gazed at her with quiet devotion.
"No matter the gods, no matter the curse or punishment, I take you, Psyche."
The words wove through time, cascading through centuries, binding them in ways she never remembered—until now. The flickers of past lives she can't seem to understand overlapped, blurring the edges of reality.
Then, the final words of his vow rang through her ears, yanking her back.
"…to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."
The last image shattered. The retreat hall snapped into place. Eros stood before her, the same as he had always been, and yet, now he felt like something more. Her breath came shallow, her head pulsing with an unbearable ache. Her fingers instinctively clutched at her temple as the weight of the memories—of lives unlived and love lost—threatened to crush her.
And Eros… he was still gazing at her, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he, too, had felt something strange in that moment.
"Selene?" His voice was quieter now, laced with something she couldn't quite place.
She swallowed hard, forcing a breath past her lips, but she couldn't speak. She could only stare.
Because for the first time, she saw him—not just as Eros De Luca, her mischievous colleague—but as something far older, something intertwined with her soul.
And it terrified her.