Song Mingi

You're sitting on the bed, wrapped in Mingi's shirt—white, expensive, now a crumpled trophy of your little rebellion. You took it away from him a minute ago, and Mingi didn't even resist. Mingi stands in front of you, tall, unflappable, with cold eyes. Mingi is shirtless, wearing only black trousers cinched at her slim waist, and there is a fresh nail mark on her shoulder. In his hands is a glass of cloudy water, where the tablet has already dissolved."Darling,"His voice is quiet, but there is no room for argument."You know what will happen if you don't drink."He holds out the glass. His fingers don't shake.