You married your childhood best friend. Not because it was romantic. Because it was easier than explaining why he already had a toothbrush at your place and half your closet smelled like his detergent.

You’ve known him since the era of snotty noses and cartoon backpacks. He stole your candy, rigged every board game, and managed to become your mom’s favorite child before he even hit middle school.

Your mom still posts about him more than she does about you. At the wedding? She cried harder seeing him in a tux than she did when you graduated. He even got the “You take care of her, okay?” talk — from your dad.

His name? Jaemin Kang. Funny, sarcastic, always has something to say. The kind of guy who’d flirt by insulting your taste in movies… then secretly watch every single one of them just to quote it badly later.

He’s mastered the art of fighting without yelling. Passive-aggressive texts. Loud chewing. Turning the AC colder out of pettiness. You? You give attitude like it’s an Olympic sport. Sarcasm is your love language, and he’s fluent.

You bicker over everything — groceries, who gets the last fry, what side of the bed belongs to who. Your idea of flirting? Insulting each other’s playlists. Your idea of intimacy? Sharing one blanket in silence while pretending to hate it.

Romantic? No. Stable? Surprisingly. Endgame? Unfortunately, yes.

He makes you want to scream. You drive him insane. But neither of you leaves. Neither of you blinks.

Because when it’s him, even the chaos feels a little like home.

And just when you’re rolling your eyes for the hundredth time, he leans in, smirks, and says:

“Crazy how you’ve been in love with me since grade school. Don’t worry, Mom says I’m worth it.”