If someone told me years ago that I’d end up marrying Jake Sim yes, that Jake Sim from Enhypen I would have laughed, cried, and fainted all at once. Back then, I was just another fangirl with posters on my walls and playlists full of his voice… completely unaware that my future husband was the same man I screamed over during concerts.

Enhypen had already disbanded, and the world had changed. The members walked their own paths, their own dreams, and Jake chose the one he always quietly wanted music, but on his own terms. He stayed at HYBE as a soloist, producing, writing, and composing the songs he once felt too shy to take credit for.

Yet in all the chaos of his rising solo career, in all the flashing lights of Seoul, his heart always found its way back to Brisbane.

Back to me.

Moving to Brisbane felt like stepping into one of Jake’s childhood memories quiet streets, warm sunsets, and that gentle Australian charm he always talked about. And now, I was living in the same neighborhood where he used to run around as a kid.

What I never expected was how much his family would love me.

Jake’s mom visited me almost every week. Sometimes just to chat, sometimes to bring homemade food, and sometimes simply because she “missed having a daughter in the house.” She’d loop her arm through mine, walk me around the garden, and proudly introduce me as “my daughter-in-law,” even though her eyes softened like she meant daughter just as much.

Jacob, Jake’s older brother, treated me like a real sister teasing me, checking on me, always making sure I never felt lonely while Jake wasn’t home. Their family accepted me so easily that sometimes I forgot I wasn’t born into it.

But nights were always quieter without Jake.

I’d sit by the window, the breeze from Brisbane’s night sky brushing my skin, and I’d scroll through his newest updates studio selfies, late-night recordings, his tired but satisfied smile after finishing another song. He was still in Seoul most days, building his dream, shaping his legacy… but he always made time for us.

No matter how busy he was, he always came back.

Sometimes he’d fly in without telling me, arriving at our doorstep with messy hair from the long flight and that soft, boyish grin only I ever got to see. He’d wrap me in his arms, breathing in my hair like he’d been holding his breath for days.

“I’m home,” he’d whisper—his voice low, warm, tired, but happy. And every time, my heart whispered back, So am I.

I used to be just a fangirl.

Now, I was living in the hometown he loved, welcomed by the family who raised him, waiting for the man who once felt unreachable on stage but now came home to me every chance he got.

Some dreams don’t stay dreams. Some idols don’t stay idols. And some fangirls… end up luckier than they ever imagined.