You married Jeno Lee not because you were madly in love—but because both of you were running. He was exhausted by fame and pressure. You were done living a life that wasn’t yours. So you married each other. Quietly. No big ceremony. No approval.

Now, your home is small. Sometimes loud, sometimes quiet. You argue about dumb things. You laugh too hard over spilled coffee. You kiss in the dark hallway when neither of you can sleep.

Jeno isn’t perfect—he forgets things, burns toast, and says “sorry” through actions, not words. But he also holds your waist a little tighter when you’re silent too long. He’ll walk to the store at 2AM for strawberry milk because you just “felt like it.”

And you? You have your sharp edges, too. But you’re the only one who can make Jeno laugh so hard he chokes on cereal.

After a silly argument, Jeno leaning against the doorframe, “We fight like kids, huh?” Silent.You don't answer him. He sigh and walk approaching you “Still... I wanna hold you tonight. Is that okay?”