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MidReal Story
Our Unforgettable Bride
Scenario:Yohan is a 19 year old korean boy who is a super duper famous actor whose net worth is 3 billion dollars. Yohan is happily married to his wife Chanel, who is a non celebrity Yohan has no haters and is loved by all
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Yohan
He is a 19 year old actor. He is charming, talented, and humble. Yohan rose to fame at 16 and became one of the most popular actors in Korea. He married his 18 year old wife, Chanel, who was a high school student at the time. Despite his massive success, Yohan remains downtoearth and interacts with fans warmly. His life changed dramatically after the tragic death of his parents in a car accident when he was young.
Chanel
She is Yohan's wife. She is sweet, loving, and gentle. Chanel was just 17 when she married Yohan, becoming a celebrity overnight. Despite the huge age difference, Chanel and Yohan share a deep love and happiness. Her presence brings peace and contentment to Yohan's life. Chanel supports Yohan's career and remains closely attached to her husband despite the hectic schedule and media attention surrounding their relationship.
Lee Hyun Joon
He is the best friend of Yohan's manager. He is loyal, observant, and cautious. Lee Hyun Joon becomes suspicious of Yohan's sudden change in behavior after meeting Seo Min Ah at a party. He alerts Yohan's manager to potential trouble when Seo Min Ah’s behavior seems unusual and not aligning with her usual character as seen in her interactions with others.
My name is Yohan.
I am 19 years old.
I am an actor.
My net worth is 3 billion dollars.
I am married to a 18 year old girl named Chanel.
I have no haters.
Everyone loves me.
I started acting when I was 16 years old and became famous overnight.
At the age of 19, I am one of the most famous actors in Korea.
I got married last year when I was 18 and Chanel was 17 years old.
She was still a high school student when we got married.
Even though I became famous at a young age and got married even younger, I never lost my head.
I remained humble and down-to-earth, which is probably why I have no haters.
Everyone loves me for being so genuine and humble despite my massive success.
My life changed forever when my parents died in a car accident when I was young.
But I never let that stop me from achieving my dreams.
I worked hard and became one of the most successful actors in Korea.
After finishing my morning schedule, I came back home.
I went to the walk-in closet and saw Chanel organizing our clothes.
She looked up and smiled at me.
I took out an envelope from my pocket and handed it to her.
"What is this?"
She asked as she took the envelope from me.
"Open it," I said.
She opened the envelope and gasped when she saw the money inside.
"There's 2,000 dollars in here," she said, looking at me with wide eyes.
"Buy any designer bag you want," I said.
She had been eyeing that limited edition Chanel purse at the Gangnam boutique for a while now, but it was too expensive for her to afford.
So I decided to give her some money to buy it herself.
"It's too much," she said, handing the envelope back to me.
"Take it," I insisted.
"I don't need that much money."
"Chanel, take it. It's not like I'm going to use it. You know how much I hate shopping. And besides, you deserve it."
She looked at me for a moment before nodding her head.
"Okay, thank you."
I smiled and grabbed my car keys from the table.
"I'll drive you to the store myself."
"Really? You don't have any schedule today?"
"Nope. So let's go."
We headed to the garage together, Chanel holding onto my arm tightly.
While walking through the main entrance of the mall, we heard screams coming from the second floor.
I looked up and saw a group of teenage girls pointing down at us.
They were already recording us with their phones.
More people started to look at us, and soon dozens of phones were pointed in our direction.
Chanel instinctively moved closer to me, gripping my arm tighter.
I gave them my usual friendly smile and waved at them.
I started walking faster towards the luxury boutiques.
The screams grew louder as more people came to join the crowd.
They followed us from a distance, still recording us with their phones.
A few security guards appeared out of nowhere and positioned themselves between us and the crowd.
We were able to slip into the Gucci store without any problems.
Inside, away from the chaos, Chanel whispered, "This is our life now."
Inside the quiet Gucci store, I watched Chanel browse through handbags with less enthusiasm than usual.
The earlier incident was still on her mind.
When she picked up a simple black leather bag, I noticed that her hands were trembling slightly.
I pulled her aside to a secluded corner near the fitting rooms, away from the curious staff members who were pretending not to stare at us.
"Are you okay?"
I asked softly.
She forced a smile and nodded, but I could see the guilt in her eyes.
"I'm fine."
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"I'm sorry," I said, feeling a mix of regret and frustration.
"This isn't what you signed up for."
She squeezed my hand gently and looked at me with those innocent brown eyes.
"It's okay. Let's just finish shopping and go home."
"Chanel, I know you're trying to be strong, but I can see it's affecting you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
She hesitated, then admitted, "It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm losing myself in all of this."
I nodded, understanding her struggle. "We can find a way to make it better, together."
After we came back from the mall, I sat on our living room couch, staring at the wall.
I could still feel the weight of the crowd's gaze on us.
I heard Chanel coming down the stairs and turned to look at her.
She was holding her new Gucci bag in her hand and a small smile on her face.
She walked towards me and placed the bag on the coffee table before sitting down beside me.
We sat there in silence for a while, not knowing what to say.
Finally, she broke the silence by turning towards me and looking into my eyes.
Her expression softened as she reached out and gently lifted my shirt up a bit, revealing my abs.
She started tracing her fingers along the lines of my muscles, a gesture that always seemed to calm both of us down.
I remained still, letting her touch wash away some of the tension from earlier.
After a while, she rested her head on my chest and closed her eyes.
I glance down at Chanel, who continues tracing patterns on my stomach with her delicate fingers.
The tension from our mall incident slowly melts away under her touch.
She shifts slightly, tilting her head to look up at me with a playful smile.
"Your abs," she says softly, pressing each fingertip against the defined muscles, "they remind me of Hawaii rolls."
I raise an eyebrow, amused by the unexpected comparison.
She demonstrates by running her finger along each ridge of muscle, counting them like she's counting bread rolls.
I wake up early the next morning, and Chanel is still fast asleep.
I gently brush a strand of hair away from her face and plant a soft kiss on her forehead.
After getting ready, I leave a note on her pillow, explaining that I'll be filming at a local community center today.
Downstairs, I sit at the breakfast table and check the script one last time.
It's for a charity campaign promoting youth education.
At 7 AM sharp, my manager pulls up in his car.
As we drive to the location, he briefs me on today's schedule.
We're shooting an advertisement for a scholarship program that supports underprivileged students.
The weight of responsibility settles in as I realize how much this means to both of us.
I sit in my dressing room, scrolling through my social media.
The comments from yesterday's mall incident flood my feed.
Fans express concern about Chanel looking uncomfortable.
Their worried messages touch me, reminding me of how supportive my followers are.
I send a message to my manager, suggesting we host an intimate fan meeting—maybe 50 people—to properly thank them and help Chanel adjust to fan interactions in a controlled setting.
He agrees but suggests we keep it private at a small venue.
I nod, determined to make this right for Chanel and our supporters.
The fan meeting is held at a cozy café.
I sit comfortably on a small stage, and fans take turns asking questions.
A shy 11-year-old girl approaches the microphone, her hands trembling slightly.
She looks up at me with wide eyes and quietly asks for advice on dealing with period pain.
Her cheeks flush red as she speaks.
The room falls silent.
Some parents shift uncomfortably, while others whisper among themselves.
I lean forward, maintaining a gentle, brotherly tone.
Drawing from my experience helping Chanel, I explain how chocolate cravings are normal and suggest using a heating pad for comfort.
After answering her question, a teenage girl in a pink sweater stands up next.
She clutches the microphone with both hands and tells me she admires Chanel's natural beauty, especially compared to other celebrity wives who've had plastic surgery.
The comment makes me glance at Chanel, who sits quietly in the corner of the stage.
She's wearing minimal makeup today, her long black hair falling naturally around her shoulders.
The fan continues, asking Chanel directly about her skincare routine.
Chanel smiles softly, stands up, and shares her simple secret: self-love.
During the fan meeting, a shy teenage girl in glasses raises her hand.
She asks if I can sing.
The question catches me off guard, and I pause for a moment before responding.
I grip the microphone tightly, remembering how my mother used to play the piano while I sang beside her.
The café falls silent as I explain that I trained in vocals before becoming an actor.
Without planning to, I start humming the lullaby my mother taught me.
My voice cracks slightly on the first note, but I continue.
I drive us home from the fan meeting.
Seeing Chanel handle herself so well with the fans has lifted a weight off my shoulders.
In our living room, I pull her onto my lap and tell her how proud I am of her.
She blushes, playing with the hem of her dress.
That's when I bring up wanting to buy her a Labrador puppy - something to make our big house feel more like a real home.
Her eyes widen with excitement, but she immediately worries about the responsibility.
I assure her we can handle it together, already picturing her walking a golden pup in our backyard.
I pull into our driveway and guide Chanel toward the garage.
I cover her eyes with my hands, and she stumbles a bit, giggling.
"What's the surprise?"
She asks, her voice filled with excitement.
I lead her to the garage door and fumble with the remote in my pocket while keeping my hands over her eyes.
The door slowly rises, revealing a gleaming yellow Lamborghini Urus with a massive red bow on the hood.
I uncover her eyes and watch as her expression changes from confusion to shock.
She steps backward, shaking her head.
"Yoonie, what is this?"
I sit at the kitchen counter watching Chanel make tea.
She moves slowly and carefully, her movements almost too precise in our massive kitchen.
She's wearing the oversized sweater I bought her last week, swimming in fabric meant for someone older.
The sight of her - barely eighteen, managing a celebrity household - hits me hard.
Just last year she was in high school, worrying about exams.
Now she's navigating paparazzi and fan meetings.
She drops a spoon, the clatter echoing through our empty house, and quickly picks it up with slightly trembling hands.
I realize that despite the luxury surrounding us, it's the quiet moments like these that truly define our lives.
I sit in our home theater, staring at the paused screen showing my latest drama's ratings - the highest in Korean television history.
Chanel enters with a tray, placing it on the table before me.
She hands me a cup of steaming chamomile tea and sits beside me on the leather couch.
I watch her every move, her grace and poise under the spotlight.
My fingers trace the rim of the teacup as I gather my thoughts.
Finally, I turn to her and say quietly, "I want to quit acting."
She freezes mid-sip, tea spilling slightly onto her dress.
Before she can respond, I explain how the constant attention is suffocating us both.
Chanel sets her cup down, her eyes searching mine for sincerity.
"But acting is your dream, Yoonie," she whispers, her voice a mix of concern and disbelief.
I nod, taking her hand in mine, "It was my dream, but now my dream is us."
I pull out my phone and open my banking app.
I scroll through the various accounts, showing her the numbers.
There are multiple accounts, each with a string of zeros that would make anyone's eyes widen.
Chanel's eyes grow larger as she sees the total: over 3 billion dollars.
I explain how my investments in real estate and stocks generate passive income, more than enough for us to live comfortably for generations.
I show her the latest property I purchased - a private island in the Maldives.
The aerial photos show crystal-clear waters and pristine beaches.
Chanel gasps at the beauty of it.
I scroll through my phone in bed, reading thousands of messages from fans.
They're all about my retirement announcement.
Most of them aren't disappointed or angry.
They're actually happy for me.
Chanel peeks at my screen and points out some of the messages.
One fan writes, "Yohan oppa, I'm so happy for you. You deserve to be happy. I'm glad you found your love."
Another fan says, "I'll miss seeing you on screen, but I understand. Family is important too."
My eyes water as I see #ThankYouYohan trending worldwide.
Chanel notices and quietly wipes my tears with her sleeve.
She says softly, "It's okay, Yoonie. They love you."
I nod, smiling weakly.
I read another message from a fan who says, "Yohan oppa, your dramas helped me through depression. But I understand why you're retiring. I hope you find happiness."
I sit on our balcony with Chanel after dinner.
We watch the sunset over the city skyline.
Suddenly, she turns to me and says, "Yoonie, I want to have children."
I look at her in surprise, but she keeps her eyes fixed on the horizon.
She continues, "I've always wanted kids, but not by getting pregnant. I want to adopt."
I stay quiet, listening intently.
Chanel takes a sip of tea before explaining further.
"I'm only eighteen. Pregnancy would be too much for me. And I don't want to wait until I'm older. I want to give a home to a child who needs one now."
She pauses, her hands fidgeting with the teacup.
Finally, she turns to look at me.
Her eyes are filled with uncertainty.
I reach out and take her hand in mine.
I look into her eyes and say, "Whatever you want, Chanel. We'll make it happen."
I sit in the office of the adoption agency, holding Chanel's hand.
We're filling out the final paperwork.
The social worker comes in with a tiny bundle in her arms.
She says, "Meet your new daughter."
I take the baby girl from her, and my hands tremble.
She's so small, wrapped in a pink blanket.
Chanel looks at me with tears in her eyes and whispers, "Let's name her Rose."
I ask why she chose that name, and she smiles.
She says, "This morning, a rosebush bloomed outside our window. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
I nod, agreeing with her choice.
As I hold Rose for the first time, she opens her eyes and grabs my finger tightly.
I look at Chanel, who's crying happy tears.
Then I look back at Rose.
Despite all our wealth and fame, this is the greatest achievement of our lives. I carefully pass Rose to Chanel.
She holds our daughter close to her chest and whispers softly to her.
"Welcome home, little one."
I sit on our living room couch with Rose sleeping in my arms.
Chanel is in the kitchen, preparing a bottle for her.
My phone lies on the coffee table.
I can't resist capturing this moment.
Carefully shifting Rose to one arm, I pick up my phone with the other.
I open Instagram and take a few photos of Rose's peaceful face against my chest.
After choosing the best one, I hover over the caption box.
Emotions overwhelm me as I type out my first dad post: "I'm a appa this is so crazyyyyy"
Then I hit share.
Chanel walks back into the room, bottle in hand, and glances at my phone.
She laughs softly and says, "Yoonie, you're already a social media dad."
I grin sheepishly and reply, "I couldn't help it; she's just too perfect not to share."
I scroll through the comments on my post.
Fans are confused about the missing chapters in our life story.
They point out gaps - my parents' death, meeting Chanel, our wedding, and my rise to fame.
Opening my Notes app, I start typing detailed explanations of these moments.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I recall memories of the car crash that took my parents, my first movie audition at 16, and falling in love with Chanel in her high school cafeteria.
Rose stirs in my arms as Chanel walks in.
She asks what I'm writing.
I stare at my phone screen, reading a comment that claims I "gave birth" to Rose.
The misunderstanding spreads as more fans jump to wild conclusions about our adoption announcement.
Some speculate about secret pregnancies, while others debate whether I'm actually transgender.
Chanel peeks over my shoulder and bursts into laughter at the absurd theories.
I start typing a clarification post explaining our adoption journey, but pause when Rose begins crying from her nursery.
Chanel looks at me with a knowing smile and says, "Maybe we should let them have their fun for a bit longer."
I chuckle and reply, "You think they'll ever believe the truth?"
She shrugs, cradling Rose in her arms, "In this world, reality is often stranger than fiction."