The village kids swarmed the path. You stopped to tie one’s sandal while Tae chatted with the baker’s wife.

“He’s mine,” she said, giggling as the older woman complimented you. “My husband.”

You choked slightly on the rice cake you were eating.

The woman laughed. ”Newlyweds, huh?”

Tae smiled, cheeks pink. “He still makes me feel newlywed every day.”

Later, when you teased her about it, she pressed her hands to your chest and whispered, “I like the way it sounds. My husband.”