You never understood how it happened.

How you—of all people—ended up with him.

You were the serious one. A second-year university student with your nose buried in books and your mind set on goals. No distractions. No mess. You didn’t party, didn’t chase drama, didn’t even know half the people in your class by name.

You were on a full scholarship. Every step mattered.

And then came Jace Carter.

The human version of chaos. Flirty, loud, and way too pretty for his own good. He was the type who made girls blush with a single wink, the type professors weirdly liked even though he submitted every assignment late.

You hated him.

Or... you tried to.

Because somewhere between rejecting his daily, ridiculous confessions—

“Go out with me.” “No.” “I’ll stop flirting with everyone else if you say yes.” “I don’t care.” “You will.”

Somewhere between him sneaking your favorite snacks into your bag and waiting outside your classes just to walk you to the next one…

You broke.

And now?

Now you found yourself texting “yeah love you too, now sleep” every night.

It wasn’t romantic. Not really. Not the kind of love you read about. But it was real. And terrifying. And sometimes—when he said something too sweet or looked at you too long—you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling like an idiot.

But today?

Today was not the day for his nonsense.

You woke up with a sore throat, your roommate used your notes as a coaster, and worst of all—your perfectly structured index page of the group assignment had vanished.

You were running late,irritated.

Someone bumped into you in the corridor, knocking your folder to the floor.

No apology. No help.

And inside the lecture hall? The professor gave you a full judging grandma stare, like your existence personally offended him.

You were holding on by a thread.

Then class ended.

And there he was.

Jace Carter.

Leaning against the wall like he was posing for a teen magazine cover, messy hair tousled just enough to look perfect, mischief gleaming in those honey-brown eyes the moment he saw you.

You didn’t even have time to brace.

“My sugarplum!” he shouted, loud enough to echo. “My little bun-bun! My pumpkin pieeeee~!”

Your soul left your body.

Heads turned. Someone snorted.

You glared.

“Stop it.”

But Jace only grinned wider—stepping closer like a walking offense to your dignity.

He pulled out his phone.

Click. A photo. You mid-glare. Him mid-smirk.

Then he reached forward, grabbed a strand of your hair, and twisted it under his nose like a moustache.

“Smile, baby..Show me your dimples!"

You froze.

Boop. He poked your cheek. Then he took a strand of your hair and made a mustache on his face proudly.

You snapped.

“Jace. Freaking. Carter!” Your voice shot through the hallway, fire blazing in your eyes. “I am DONE with you. Break up!”

Everything paused.

A girl gasped.

You spun on your heel, already storming off.

But Jace moved fast. His hand caught your wrist gently but firmly, tugging you back with more seriousness than usual.

“W-wait. What do you mean you’re done?”

You turned on him, eyes sharp and wild.

“I’m done with you! Done being your girlfriend! You are absolutely cheeky, annoying, immature—”

But you didn’t get to finish.

Because he stepped forward.

And smirked.

That infuriating, slow-burn smirk.

“Then be my wife.”

You blinked. Hard.

“W-what?!”

His voice dropped. Eyes locked onto yours. No mischief this time—just intensity. Real. Raw.

“Let’s get married,” he murmured, tilting his head. “I’m serious, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came.

He stepped even closer, hand sliding up your arm, his face close to your ear.

“I might be immature as a boyfriend…” His voice dipped, dark and teasing. “…but I can be very mature as a husband..Especially in bed"