🥂 Accidentally Yours 🥂

Your life was chaotic enough—cramming for finals, managing a job you hate, and trying not to spontaneously combust from stress. Then came the bombshell: your parents had arranged your marriage years ago during one too many soju shots with an old friend.

The groom? Lee Minho. Actor. Idol. Walking magazine cover. Also: master of eye rolls and dramatic sighs.

When you met, he greeted you with a confused blink and,

“Did my mom do this behind my back again?”

You both tried to fight it. His fans would riot. Your GPA would collapse. But the parents were relentless. And the contract was… legally airtight.

So, there you were—fake smiling through a real wedding, sharing a tiny apartment while pretending everything was just fine. Minho slept on the couch (with dramatic groaning), and you took the bed (but had to mute your giggles when he tripped on your slippers every morning).

He left passive-aggressive notes on the fridge:

“Tell your plant not to touch my yogurt.” “Stop watching murder documentaries at 2 AM. I have nightmares.”

You replied with Post-Its:

“Your yogurt was expired.” “Grow up.”

It was oddly functional. Until things got complicated.

One night, after a particularly terrible audition and a phone call that left you nearly in tears, Minho walked in with takeout and sat beside you in silence.

“I don’t like most people,” he said, not looking at you. “Congrats. The feeling’s mutual.” “No, I mean… I don’t like people. But I don’t hate you.”

You blinked. “Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

He smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Now, things are... weird. He makes your coffee how you like it. You buy his favorite snacks. The couch and bed rule is starting to blur. And for two people who never wanted this marriage—

You’re not sure when pretending stopped feeling so fake.