Enjoy💕

The afternoon sun bathed the manor grounds in a golden glow. A quiet breeze rustled the tall grasses, and birds chirped in the trees like tiny wind chimes strung between the branches.

"Come on," Jungkook huffed, tugging at Taehyung's wrist with both hands. "You promised!"

"I did no such thing," Taehyung said, allowing himself to be pulled along. "You just said, 'We're going'—and then dragged me halfway across the estate before I could blink."

"And you didn't resist," Jungkook shot back smugly, glancing over her shoulder. She was barefoot, her feet quick and light as she leapt over mossy stones, the hem of her skirt swishing around her ankles like a teasing breeze. "Which means, deep down, you wanted to come."

Taehyung gave a sigh but couldn't hide the fondness in his gaze as he watched her skip ahead, hair gleaming in the afternoon light. The sound of the river grew louder as they neared the clearing. A few dragonflies skimmed the surface, their wings catching the sunlight like glass.

Since their stay at the Jeon manor, Taehyung had come to recognize this ritual: Jungkook disappeared almost every afternoon, always toward the river. He'd stumbled upon her here more than once—sometimes with her feet dipped in the water, other times sprawled in the grass with a book resting half-open over her eyes, her breath slow, like she'd been drinking in the calm.

And now, she was leading him here again.

The river glistened like melted silver under the sun, its surface rippling gently, mirroring the soft atmosphere in their lives over the past few days.

Jungkook didn't stop until she reached the edge, then turned to him with a triumphant grin. Taehyung looked at the sparkle in her eyes and the way the water sparkled behind her and thought—yes, maybe he hadn't promised.

But he would've followed her here anyway.

Jungkook tilted her head, pretending to ponder, then broke into a mischievous smile.
"Now, my dear husband," she said, hands perched on her hips like a cheeky queen, "what do you think we're going to do here?"

Taehyung raised a brow, unimpressed. "Lie down, admire the view, and reflect on the mystery that is my wife?" he asked dryly, hands tucked into his pockets, one eyebrow lifting like a challenge.

Jungkook rolled her eyes but smiled, stepping closer until their chests were almost touching, her bare toes curling into the grass beside his boots. "Wrong," she declared. Then, with a grin that promised trouble, she tugged at his hand. "We're swimming."

Taehyung blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Swimming," she repeated, sing-song and unbothered, already backing toward the water with mischief in her eyes. "You know—what humans do when it's hot and there's a gorgeous river calling their name?"

Taehyung stared at her, then glanced at the river. The current moved slow and clear, but the water glimmered in a way that made it very clear—it was cold. He turned back to her, unconvinced. "That is not a pool, Mrs. Kim. That's a river. A very chilly river."

"Oh no," Jungkook gasped, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead like a fainting damsel. "My ancient husband has turned into an old man overnight!"

Taehyung's lips parted in mock offense. "Ancient? I just turned thirty—"

"Exactly!" she interrupted, stepping into the water with a small skip. "Thirty. That's when the decline starts. Next thing I know, you'll be carrying paracetamol tablets and wearing orthopaedic slippers."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" he asked, but his voice had softened. He was watching her now—completely. The way her bare feet disappeared into the water, her skirt floating around her calves, her hair catching the breeze and sunlight like it had been painted just for him.

Jungkook caught the look and grinned, tossing him a glance over her shoulder. "Come on, old man. Live a little."

Taehyung huffed through his nose. He rolled his eyes—not convincingly—then slowly began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "You do realise that one of us is going to get sick after this."

Taehyung stepped in slowly, letting the river wrap around his ankles, then his calves, the chill licking up his skin in delicious contrast to the warm air. The water was startlingly cold at first, the kind that bit gently before melting into comfort. Pebbles shifted under his feet as he waded deeper, the soft gurgle of the current brushing against his legs.

Ahead of him, Jungkook had already walked further into the shallows—her skirt bundled up slightly in her hands as she walked carefully through the stony bed of the river. The water kissed her below the chest, soaking the lower half of her blouse. Sunlight refracted through the surface, casting wavy golden ripples along her skin.

When Taehyung reached her, the water only just came to his waist. He looked down, then at her. Jungkook noticed the difference instantly.

"No," she said, squinting suspiciously at his expression. "Don't even."

He smirked, tilting his head, his voice sliding into that familiar teasing lilt. "Wow. The mighty river bows before me—barely reaching my waist—and yet you, dear wifey..."

Jungkook groaned, already knowing what was coming.

"You're drowning in the shallows," he finished, biting back a grin.

"I am not drowning!" the wife swatted a splash of water toward him. "It's just... It's deep on this side."

He stepped closer, circling her like a predator wading in slow motion. "Admit it, Mrs Kim. You're a smol water pixie."

"I will drown you if you keep saying that."

He laughed, lifting both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. You're not small. The river is just biased."

"It is!" Jungkook slapped the water surface as if to keep her point, "this river is conspireing against me!"

"Clearly," he nodded solemnly. "Or maybe you just shrank from all the sugar you've been eating lately."

Jungkook gasped. "Excuse me?!"

Taehyung was already moving away, splashing dramatically as Jungkook chased after him. Water flew between them, laughter rising above the quiet rustle of trees and the babble of the river. They danced through the waist-deep current like children, like lovers, like two souls who had forgotten the world entirely.

Jungkook squealed as Taehyung sent another arc of water her way, shielding her face with both hands. "Yah! You're doing it on purpose now!"

"Of course I am," he grinned, eyes gleaming, water dripping from his hair. "You started it."

"No, you started it—with your mouth and your mocking!"

Jungkook launched a full handful of water at his face, and it hit its mark with a satisfying splash.

Taehyung sputtered, blinking rapidly, water dripping from his lashes. "You little—!"

Before the husband could finish, the wife tackled him with her arms around his waist, nearly knocking both of them into the deeper end. They stumbled, laughing hysterically, water sloshing up their chests. His hands automatically found her waist to balance them both, her fingers still curled into the fabric of his wet shirt.

Taehyung stood straighter, dripping wet, water streaming down his arms, and tilted his head with a sinister smile. "You really wanna do this, wifey?"

Jungkook's eyes widened in panic. "Mr Kim—don't you dare—!"

But it was too late, Mr Kim surged toward her through the water. Mrs kim shrieked and turned to flee, laughing so hard her legs tangled beneath her. He caught her easily, arms slipping around her waist from behind, lifting her slightly off the riverbed.

Jungkook thrashed gently, more giggling than resisting. "No! Let go, I'm warning you!"

"Warning me with what?" he asked innocently, holding her against him like she weighed nothing. "Another sprinkle of river water? Oh, I'm terrified."

"You should be." Jungkook berathed out the words.

Taehyung only grinned as Jungkook thrashed in his grip, her feet skimming the water while she tried to twist away.

"I swear—Mr Ice Cube—if you drop me—!"

"Oh no, wifey," he said smoothly, dipping his head near her ear. "I'm not gonna drop you."

And in the next moement, he took a dip into the river, dragging her with him.

Water surged up around them with a whoosh. Jungkook shrieked as her world turned into bubbles and splashes, her fingers clutching at his soaked shirt. The cold hit her skin like a wave of needles—but then dissolved into something warmer, familiar, safe.

They resurfaced with a loud splash, Taehyung emerging first, his hair slicked back and triumphant grin wide as the sky. Jungkook came up next, gasping, blinking water from her lashes, her soaked hair sticking to her cheeks and neck.

"Kim Taehyung!" Jungkook shrieked, smacking at his shoulder with both hands. "Are you actually out of your mind?! I could've drowned!"

He caught her wrists effortlessly mid-swing. "The water's barely to your waist," he said through a grin, voice rich and infuriatingly calm.

"Still! You dragged me in like—like a barbarian!" jungkook growled, twisting in his hold.

Taehyung pulled her in then—suddenly, completely.

Jungkook gasped, hands now flat against his husband's chest, fingers splayed against his soaked shirt. The moment their bodies met, her breath caught in her throat.

Water slipped between them, but it couldn't keep them apart. Not when Taehyung's arms were wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her in. Clothes clung like a second skin, wet and transparent, outlining every curve, every breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly against his, and there was no space left between them—none for air, none for doubt.

Jungkook's lashes were wet, blinking against the water that sat above her eyelids. Her lips parted slightly, catching a bead of water that had trailed down from his temple to the edge of her own mouth.

Taehyung looked down at her, dark eyes staying on every inch of her—her drenched hair trailing down her shoulders like silk, the blush blooming over her cheeks even in the cold, her bottom lip trembing slightly, whether from cold or something deeper, he couldn't tell.

Taehyung didn't even notice that he'd started to lean in. His hand slid up her spine. The other settled at her jaw, thumb brushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear. His breath mingled with hers now.

He was mesmerized.

His lips hovered, trembling over hers. So close that if Jungkook tilted her head half an inch, they'd meet. Just one more breath and—

Jungkook pulled away. The corner of her mouth lifted into the most infuriatingly smug smile.

Taehyung blinked, stunned for a beat, his breath still caught in his throat like a chord left unresolved. Jungkook tilted her head, eyes lidded and gleaming with wicked sweetness.

"Not so soon, Mr. Kim," she purred, tasting the power of those words on her tongue.

Taehyung froze, lips trembling in the empty space where hers had just been.

Jungkook had slipped from his grasp like silk, like river sand through open fingers—one moment pressed against his chest, the next, gliding backward with a devilish grace that made the droplets on her skin look like jewels. Her wet dress clung to her frame as she waded away.

Taehyung just stood there. Drenched. Breathless. Betrayed.

His arms remained half-lifted in the air, as if still cradling her ghost.

He blinked, slow. Dazed.

What the hell just happened?

The water lapped at his waist. His shirt clung to every inch of his body, hair plastered to his forehead, lips parted in disbelief.

Jungkook paused a few feet away, water rippling around her as she turned with a flourish, the corner of her mouth curling into the faintest smirk.

Taehyung exhaled, finally. His head dropped slightly, a low sound of frustration rumbling from his chest as he dragged one hand down his face. Then he stared after her, a man completely wrecked by beauty, chaos, and the boldness of his own wife.

Jungkook began walking toward the shallow end of the river—where the stones were smooth and warm, where sunlight struck clear through the surface and danced on the riverbed like gold dust.

Taehyung watched her go.

Watched as the fabric of her white dress clung her skin, outlining the gentle curve of her back, her thighs, the slip of her waist. Water clung to her calves, swirling around her with every step. She didn't look back.

When she reached the stone, Jungkook turned and lowered herself onto the sun-warmed surface. She sat sideways, one leg dipped into the river, the other curled to her side like a nymph at rest.

The soaked dress clung to her legs. It got translucent in the light and floated in the water. Meanwhile, tiny green vines and wild plants from the riverbed had lazily wound around the hem. They trailed along her shin and calf, curling like nature's own jewelry.

The sight was devastating.

Taehyung stood in the middle of the river, drenched to the bone, the water at his hips, his breath trapped somewhere between reverence and need. He had seen art in museums. Masterpieces. Murals painted by the blessed hands of old gods.

But none of them looked like this.

Jungkook perched like a vision sculpted from river foam and blush. Her chin tilted up toward the sun with eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted—utterly unbothered, like the chaos she'd caused moments ago wasn't still rolling like thunder through Taehyung's veins.

Taehyung ran a hand through his soaked hair, shoving it back from his eyes. His heart drummed in his ears. Every nerve in his body tightened.

He took a step forward.

And another.

Water parted around his thighs.

Jungkook sensed him without even looking and dipped her fingers into the water and absently played with the surface.

"You're staring," she said softly, her voice smooth and sun-drenched.

"I know," Taehyung answered. "I haven't figured out what word exists for what you look like right now."

That earned him the barest smile. The pretty wife looked at him now—properly. And her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him moving toward her: the water darkening the open V of his shirt, clinging to his chest, the strong pull of his shoulders, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on only her.

"So poetic, Mr. Kim," jungkook teased gently, trailing her wet fingers up her own shin now, brushing over the vines. "Didn't know river water could turn you into a lover and a liar."

From between the stones and tangled green, Jungkook plucked a lily that had been drifting lazily nearby—its pale petals almost glowing in the golden light, the stem was long and slick with dew.

Jungkook twirled it between her fingers slowly, like a siren playing with a charm. Her gaze never left him. That starry gazes held a silent invitation combined with unspoken promises.

Taehyung's hand moved forward, fingers reaching for the delicate flower but before he could touch it, Jungkook's graceful fingers darted out, snatching the lily back with a victorious grin that gleamed in the golden light.

Taehyung's brows lifting slightly as the lily vanished from his grasp. Jungkook's grin was nothing short of sinful.

She held the lily between two fingers now, her head tilted just enough to let a single strand of wet hair trail down her cheek.

"You're slow, Mr. Kim," the wife said, twirling the lily like a little prize. "I expected quicker reflexes from a man with your resume."

He scoffed under his breath, dragging his palm slowly across his face.

Jungkook held the lily out between them again, a final taunt. But before she could pull it away again, Taehyung moved, his hand closed over her wrist, firm enough to still her.

The lily stopped spinning. She blinked up at him, suddenly caught, her breath faltering as he leaned in.

"I am fast, wifey," he whispered, voice low against her mouth. "But I don't rush when it comes to you."

Jungkook's lashes fluttered. He knelt in the water before her, the river reaching just beneath her hips now, his hands gliding to either side of her thighs on the stone. Jungkook leaned back slightly, palms behind her again, her chest rising.

Taehyung inclined forward, one hand rising from the water. He tucked the lily behind her ear, its soft white petals brushing her temple.

"You wear divinity so well," he whispered.

Jungkook's chest lifted with a shallow inhale. "Then come worship."

Taehyung moved in closer, water trailing off his clothes and arms as he leaned over her, one knee planted on the edge of the stone, the other foot still submerged in the river. Droplets slid from his jaw to her collarbone.

Jungkook didn't retreat. Instead, her hands reached up and grabbed the damp collar of his shirt, fingers fisting the fabric, tugging him closer until he was just over her. Her body arched as she leaned back slowly, lowering herself onto the stone, her elbows meeting the surface first.

She let herself fall back fully, lying beneath him now, her wet hair fanning out around her head like inky strands in the river.

The coarse stone scraped faintly at her spine, not painfully, but enough to pull a breath through her teeth, making her wince lowly.

Taehyung paused instantly. His gaze flicked down to where her back met the rough rock and without a word, his fingers moved, brushing lightly against the river stone beneath her. A soft golden glitter-like sparkle spilt from his touch. Magic spread like glowing threads, seeping into the edges of the stone beneath her body.

The hardness melted immediately.

What had been a moss-lined, sun-baked hard slab became something entirely different under her. A soft, warm cushion, like the surface of a petal or the touch of cloud.

Jungkook blinked up at him, stunned. "Did you just...?"

Taehyung gave a small smile. "Can't hurt my wife, you know."

He leaned in, brushing his thumb tenderly along her temple, tucking a slippery strand of hair behind her ear. "When I said I'd take care of you. I meant it."

Those words made something bloom in her chest—something heavier than desire, more molten than affection. Her hands loosened from his collar, now sliding up the nape of his neck, fingers threading through the soft hair at his scalp.

Taehyung lowered himself further, the soft cloud-like riverbed cradling Jungkook beneath him, and pressed a slow kiss to her temple. She exhaled softly at the contact, her fingers instinctively tightening where they were curled behind his neck.

His lips trailed down, touching the apple of her cheek, then the hollow just beneath. A featherlight brush that made her shiver.

"Mr Kim..." Her voice was a murmur, barely there, but it quivered like the flutter of dragonfly wings.

He hummed against her skin, his breath skipping across her jawline before he reached her neck.

Jungkook whimpered, her hands tightening in his hair. Her head tilted instinctively to the side, baring her throat, inviting more. His kisses became slower, mouth open now as he pressed them down the side of her neck.

As if the heavens themselves had been watching, the sky suddenly gave in to their intimacy. A soft thunder echoed through the hills, not of warning, but of joy. And then raindrops fell.

A curtain of silver water threaded down from the clouds above, gentle at first, like fingertips drumming across the leaves. The river caught it instantly, rippling in delight, as if it too had been waiting for the sky to weep happiness.

Jungkook gasped softly, blinking up as cool droplets kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. Her soaked dress grew even heavier, plastered to her skin now, sheer and glowing like second flesh. But she didn't care. There was no flinch, no panic—only awe in her eyes.

Taehyung's head was still bowed, his lips hovering against the flushed swell of her chest he'd kissed just moments ago. Rain began to slide down the side of his neck, catching in the grooves of his jaw, making his hair fall damply across his forehead. He lifted his gaze to her face, blinking through the rain, and—

God.

Jungkook had never looked more divine.

The lily tucked behind her ear was still there, half-drenched and blooming. Her flushed skin was glowing like it was painted in gold and silver. Green leafy Vines still clung to her thigh as if nature refused to let her go.

Jungkook giggled softly as the rain trickled into her collar, and she brought both palms up to Taehyung's cheeks.

"You made the sky cry," she whispered teasingly. "Look at you."

Taehyung smiled, hands still on either side of her waist. "Maybe it couldn't bear to stay away. It had to bless this moment too."

The river danced around them in droplets and everything got wet, wild and warm.

Jungkook's eyes wandered to the slope of his throat, past the droplets slipping over his collarbones, and to the strong curve of his adam's apple.

How had she never noticed just how hot that was?

Taehyung was speaking softly, something about how the rain suited her, but his voice barely registered in her ears. Not when his throat moved like that when he spoke. Not when every shift of his jaw made that sinful stretch of his neck flex.

Each droplet seemed to highlight the sharp angles of his neck, the subtle pulse of his Adam's apple rising and falling with every breath.

A slow smile curved her lips as her mind spiralled into deliciously forbidden territory.
God, the things I want to do right now.

Jungkook pictured tracing those muscles with her fingers, feeling the heat beneath the cold rain. Imagined the roughness of his jaw against her skin, the deep, low voice that could break her in a whisper.

Her fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to pull him closer, to press into that scorching heat and never let go.

Jungkook swallowed. The blush on her cheeks deepened as her thoughts drifted downward—heat blooming low in her belly, pooling in a way that had nothing to do with the river or the rain.

And then, like a traitor, a thought slid into her mind—sharp, sinful, and far too tempting.
Would it be that wrong... if I just bit him?

Just to see how he'd react. Just to hear that groan, he only ever gave her.

But then Taehyung leaned down again, completely unaware of the mischief growing behind her wide, innocent eyes. His jaw grazed hers, lips brushing her cheek with all the gentleness of a man who worshipped her every breath.

Jungkook's eyes fluttered shut.

The rain slipped down her lashes like tears, her breath caught between his kiss and her own crumbling control. Her body responded instinctively, her hand rising to clutch the damp fabric of his shirt, holding him there, wanting more. Wanting everything.

Her free hand drifted upward, brushing along the side of his neck. Her fingertips skimmed the drops that slid down his throat, and then her thumb brushed over his Adam's apple.

Jungkook sat up a little beneath him, barely lifting her chest from the stone. Her lips parted as she leaned forward and pressed her mouth gently to the base of his throat. Her teeth sank lightly into the skin just over his adam's apple, a tender bite that made him jerk slightly above her.

Her lips were warm, her breath got shallow as it ghosted across his neck. She let her tongue flick across the skin after, soothing it with a soft kiss, as if to apologise and own it all at once.

Taehyung's breath caught then broke into a deep rough sound that grumbled against her lips. The sound vibrating through his chest, his throat, and all the way into her fingertips where they clutched his soaked shirt. The sound was raw, masculine, and completely unguarded.

Jungkook froze.

Did he moaned—

Her eyes widened the slightest bit, realization blooming like a spark in her chest. The heat in her belly throbbed again—thrilled, yes—but also... nervous now. She'd given in to a sudden impulse, kissed and bitten her husband's throat, for heaven's sake, and he had groaned like he liked it.

Still, now that her own daring had passed, a tide of soft embarrassment crept in, replacing the fire with a fluttering shyness. Jungkook bit her lower lip, her cheeks blooming with pink as the rush settled and her mind caught up with what she'd done.

Her gaze dropped to the spot she'd kissed—bitten—and then quickly to his soaked shirt, unable to meet his gaze for a moment. Her fingers loosened slightly on the fabric, as if uncertain whether to keep holding him or curl back into herself.

With a small breath, the shy wife ducked her head and buried it in the crook of the husband's neck, as if the rain alone wasn't enough to cool the heat rising to her face. Her arms slid around his shoulders, wrapping tightly like she needed to disappear into him.

Like hiding in his heart was the only way to escape her own boldness.

Taehyung was surprised by the sudden shift in his wifey, but his smile only deepened as her nose pressed into his damp skin. Her breath was feathering over his throat, and her fingers curled tighter into the soaked fabric clinging to his back.

He could feel jungkoo's heart racing where her chest pressed lightly to his, like a drum trying to outrun the silence. He dipped his head, his lips brushing the side of her temple, warm despite the cool rain.

"Shy now, are we?" he murmured against her skin, voice low and full of fond amusement.

Jungkook didn't answer. She only tightened her hold on him, hiding her face deeper into his neck, the tips of her ears glowing red against the misty grey rain.

"You bite me like you want to own me," he whispered, "and now you're trembling like you've been caught stealing apples."

"I wasn't—" she mumbled into his skin, barely audible. "It wasn't planned... I just... you looked really edible. And your throat was right there."

"And you acted on instinct." He grinned, shifting slightly so he could cradle the back of her head. "Good. I like your instincts."

Jungkook whined into his neck, her voice muffled. "Stop talking."

"Or what?" he teased, lips brushing her hairline. "You'll bite me again?"

A long beat passed—and then, barely above a whisper:
"...Maybe."

He laughed again, hands stroking up and down her back, anchoring her there in the middle of the river, in the middle of the rain, in the middle of this moment that was both wildly new and quietly theirs.

"My shy little wife," he murmured, resting his chin atop her head. "You're full of surprises."

Eventually, Jungkook pulled back—but only just. Her cheek still pressed lightly to his collarbone, as though she couldn't bear to part from the warmth entirely. Her lashes fluttered against his skin, her fingers still curled into the damp fabric of his shirt like she was afraid letting go might shatter something delicate between them.

She tilted her chin, just barely, her gaze lifting slowly toward his face without fully meeting his eyes. Her lips parted slightly, trembling with a confession she almost didn't want to say aloud.

"That look in your eyes..." she whispered, her voice barely more than breath. "It... it scares me a little."

Taehyung's brow furrowed, the easy warmth in his expression shifting instantly to something more careful, tender. The smile behind his eyes faded, replaced by concern.

"Why?" he asked softly, his voice a hushed murmur beneath the rain. He tilted his head, trying to meet her gaze. "Why would that scare you?"

Jungkook blinked once, her eyes darting down again. A single raindrop clung to her lower lashes before slipping down her cheek, tracing the soft curve of her face. She didn't brush it away. Her fingers fisted tighter into the creased, rain-heavy cloth at his chest.

The lily still tucked behind her ear gave the softest twitch in the breeze, its once-bright petals now softened, blushing pink at the edges—wilting slightly under the moment. It, too, seemed to sense what she felt. Fragile. Overwhelmed. In full bloom and barely holding together.

Jungkook swallowed.

"Because..." she began slowly, her voice small and real, "when someone looks at you like that... like you're everything they've ever wanted... you wonder what happens when you're not."

Taehyung's chest rose sharply, but he said nothing—didn't interrupt, didn't correct. Jungkook exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead briefly to his shoulder, then lifting it again, gathering the courage to look.

When she finally met his eyes, it was tentative—like a flower inching open after rain, petals trembling under the weight of something too big for words.

Jungkook swallowed, her throat bobbing visibly, lashes fluttering like they might fall closed—but didn't. Her voice came soft, barely louder than the rainfall kissing the surface of the river.

"I've always been the one who runs her mouth," she murmured, her gaze dropping again, embarrassed by the depth spilling out of her. "The one who makes jokes first... who distracts when things get too serious."
Her fingers, still lightly pressed to his chest, curled slightly—like they were trying to hold onto something they couldn't name.

"But with you..." She took a breath, shaky but real. "With you, it's different. You don't let me hide."

Jungkook looked up at him again, her eyes glistening with more than just rain. "When you look at me like that... like you already know the parts I try to keep buried—it makes me feel like I'm standing in front of a mirror that sees straight through me. Even the messy pieces. The scared ones. The ones I don't want to admit even exist."

Her voice faltered near the end, and she bit her lip, cheeks flushed despite the cool air, as though she'd said too much. Her brows knit faintly, heart in her throat.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she added quickly, flustered, retreating just slightly, like she might curl into herself at any moment. "I just—"

"You don't have to hide any part of yourself with me," he said quietly.

Taehyung didn't move right away. His hands cupped the sides of her face now, thumbs brushing the apples of her damp, flushed cheeks with a softness that nearly undid her all over again

"I want to be the same with you," he said quietly.

Jungkook blinked, breath caught, her fingers still resting lightly against his throat. His voice had dropped low and every word carried something unguarded.

"I've spent years learning how to hold myself together," he continued, eyes still closed. "How to carry things without letting them show. How to be strong, composed, the person others lean on."

Jungkook felt his breath falter slightly, like saying the words cost him something.

"But sometimes I forget that strength doesn't have to mean silence," he whispered. "And then... you.

Jungkook let out a small, startled sound—a soft hiccup of breath—part laugh, part disbelief, part emotion rising too fast to contain. Her hands curled against his skin, drawing him closer.

"You," Taehyung repeated, pulling back just enough to look at her. "You smile at me like the weight I carry is something I don't have to lift alone. You see through every version of me, and you still stay. How could I not want to give you the same in return?"

Jungkook's lips parted, but no words came. Her throat was too tight, her heart too full.

"I want to be messy with you," he said, quieter now. "I want to show you the parts of me that ache and worry and dream and don't have the answers. I want you to know I'm not always that unshakable man you see on the outside. I want to be real with you. All of me."

Jungkook stared up at him, eyes wide, cheeks damp from more than rain now. And then, with all the tenderness in the world, she nodded.

The breeze picked up slightly, rustling the vines that curled along the stones, teasing the hem of her soaked white dress as it floated in the river's edge.

Jungkook curled closer to him, fitting beneath his chin. Their bodies were half-submerged, half-draped over the smooth rocks, as the river flow quietly around them. His arms wrapped around her waist, her fingers splayed over his heart.

Time slipped around them like water.

—

The room was lit only by the soft glow of a lamp and the fading kiss of twilight pressing against the sheer curtains. Outside, the world was damp, the scent of rain lingering in the air like a memory.

Inside, however, the drama was alive and well—particularly in front of the antique mirror that now framed a very disheveled, very sniffly, and very grumpy Mrs. Kim.

Jungkook sat with one leg folded under her on the cushioned stool, wrapped like a noble lady in a thick shawl over a loose black suit. Her damp hair clung stubbornly to her cheeks and neck, the towel in her lap slowly absorbing the aftermath of a reckless, rain-soaked adventure.

She sniffled dramatically. Then glared at her own reflection. She flipped her wet hair to the side with far more drama than strength, the motion followed by another dainty sniffle.

"Who makes love under a thundercloud?" she asked no one in particular, voice dripping with outrage.

"Stupid handsome man. Now look at me. Sniffling like a heartbroken heroine wrapped in a shawl."

Jungkook threw a pointed look at the mirror, as if expecting her reflection to offer an apology for her current state of disarray. Instead, the damp strands clung stubbornly to her cheeks, and her eyes—still bright but rimmed with exhaustion—held the stubborn fire that refused to be tamed.

The wife huffed as she dried her fringe, glaring through the strands. She exhaled. The mirror, unfortunately, reflected a very pretty, very flushed beauty with pink-tipped ears and shiny Star filled eyes.

Jungkook crossed the room and flopped down onto the edge of the bed, pulling the shawl tighter around her shoulders. The fabric was comforting and warm against her damp skin.

Her lips twisted into a pout as she glanced toward the door, imagining him stepping inside with that ridiculous grin—wet hair, drenched shirt clinging to that sculpted chest she could never resist.

Jungkook leaned back against the headboard, eyes closing for a moment as the memory of his hands, his lips, his voice hung back in the room like a sweet, maddening perfume.

Then, something else caught her eye.

She lowered her gaze to her wrist, tilting it to the side. A faint red imprint stood out on her pale skin where Taehyung's fingers had gripped her earlier. Not with intention to hurt, never that, but with that same passion he always poured into her. As if the world might disappear if he let her go.

She stared at it, heart giving one hard thump in her chest.
A flutter. No—an explosion.

"Ugh," Jungkook whined, dragging the back of her other hand dramatically across her face. "I hate you, Kim Taehyung."

The pout on her lips warred with the growing smile that threatened to break through. Her stomach twisted with butterflies so violent it almost made her dizzy. That stupid red mark, still flashing the memory of how he'd held her—like a man lost, and she was the only anchor.

"Who even touches someone like that in the middle of nature?" she mumbled to herself, lifting her wrist again, scowling at it like it had betrayed her too. "Like we weren't practically one slippery rock away from dying dramatically in each other's arms."

Jungkook sniffled again, partly from the rain chill, partly from the utter betrayal of her own heart. It was still racing. Still hopelessly affected.

"I mean—" she grumbled, rubbing the mark gently with her thumb, "—what kind of husband manhandles his poor delicate wife like a romance novel gone feral?"

She paused, looked down again at the mark... and then bit her bottom lip, shy.

"I liked it," she whispered, horrified. Then slapped her palm over her face. "I really hate you, Kim Taehyung."

She kicked her feet up on the bed like a restless teenager in love, the pout returning full-force to her lips, even as her cheeks stayed pink and her heart continued to flutter like the traitor it was.

As if summoned by her curse or perhaps compelled by some mystical thread that always tugged him to her when she was flushed and fuming, Mr. Kim finally made his entrance.

He wasn't dressed like the sin-summoner who had earlier coaxed her into a rain-soaked fever dream by the river. Now, he looked domestic. His sleeves were rolled up, collar undone, and in his hands he held a tray with two delicate cups of ginger tea, steam curling up like tendrils of apology.

The second Jungkook's eyes met his—only for a flash—she let out a tiny gasp and whirled around, snatching the towel from her lap like it was a lifeline. She yanked it over her head, burying half her face beneath it and furiously rubbing at her already dry hair.

"Don't," she muttered into the fabric, her voice muffled and pouty. "Don't look at me like that."

Taehyung didn't answer right away. She heard his slow steps approach and scrunched lower.

"I'm not looking," he said, voice thick with teasing. "You're the one hiding."

"I'm not hiding," Jungkook replied defensively, shifting the towel slightly so it covered more of her face. "I'm—I'm drying my hair."

"It's already dry."

"It's not dry enough." Her words came with a dramatic sniffle and a wiggle of her shoulders as she continued her charade. "And even if it is, my pride is soaked, thank you very much."

There was a beat of silence.

Jungkook could feel him, his presence, the soft dip of the mattress as his knee came to rest behind her on the bed. Still facing the mirror, she peeked from under the towel, just enough to see the edge of his frame in the reflection.

Taehyung's eyes found hers instantly. She squeaked and ducked back under. "Stop looking!"

"I can't help it," he murmured, his voice low now. "My wife is pretty, sulking, and pretending she didn't absolutely ruin me by the river."

"You ruined me," came the muffled reply from under the towel.

He chuckled then and leaned in just enough to ghost his lips against the fabric over her shoulder.

"So we ruined each other," he said. "Fair trade."

Jungkook, still hiding, smiled despite herself. Butterflies exploded all over again. And Taehyung? He didn't need to see her face to know it.

Jungkook's cheeks were still warm—stubbornly so—but her pulse had begun to calm. She peeked again.

Taehyung was reaching for the tray, he slid it across the mattress between them. Two clay cups with steam curling into the air. The smell of ginger and cardamom wove into the room like comfort itself.

She blinked. He didn't say anything—no teasing, no witty remark. Then he turned his face toward the mirror, meeting her eyes again.

This time, she didn't duck. Her fingers clutched at the towel tighter but she stared at him through the mirror's golden reflection. Taehyung tilted his head a little, the ghost of a smile on his mouth. That soft, knowing smile that always turned her into a puddle.

"You can't fix what you did with tea," Jungkook muttered, voice cracking around the edges of her sulk.

"I wasn't trying to fix anything," he said with a smile. "Just bribing you into looking at me again."

Jungkook sniffled, lips wobbling despite herself. Then, in the tiniest voice:
"It smells really good."

"I grated the ginger myself," he said smugly, lifting his cup and blowing on it.

She peeked again, suspicious and still hidden under her towel. But her fingers were already inching toward the second cup.

He watched her from the corner of his eye and grinned. There she was—his pouty, stubborn, irresistibly soft wife—trying her best to act mad while reaching for the tea he made her. Wrapped in a towel, blushing like the rain had kissed every part of her twice.

Taehyung watched her from the corner of his eye, breath held hostage by the quiet poetry in front of him.

His eyes dropped to her fingers, inch by inch making their shy journey toward the second tea cup like she wasn't sure he deserved to see her give in just yet.
And God, she didn't even know what she was doing to him.

His wife looked like she'd fallen straight out of a dream he hadn't known he was allowed to have. There were no words good enough. No series of syllables sacred enough to describe the soft fire that was Jungkook.

Beautiful didn't cut it.

Cute didn't even touch the surface.

His mouth parted to say something—but nothing came out.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had finally touched the tea. Her fingers barely brushed the clay cup at first, testing the warmth like it might betray her. She sniffled once and then used her other hand to hold her towel tighter under her chin, like the act of sipping tea somehow required maximum modesty.

She lifted the cup, both hands now cradling it. She blew gently across the surface. Taehyung swallowed, forcing down the warm surge in his chest and the distinctly not innocent heat low in his belly.

Jungkook sat in suspicious silence, her small frame still swaddled in the towel. The tea warmed her palms and soothed her sniffles, but not her pride. She sipped in moody quiet, eyes downcast—until something tugged her gaze upward.

The mirror.

She peeked at it over the rim of her cup and immediately regretted it because Mr. Kim Taehyung, her husband, menace, and shameless destroyer of her self-control, was leaning lazily against the headboard like he was posing for a royal portrait.

But it wasn't just the look that made Jungkook nearly choke on her next sip. It was the position. He was sitting wide-legged, his long legs stretched out carelessly, one arm draped over a pillow, the other lazily bringing the tea to his lips. Manspreading like it was his birthright.

And his lap looked empty.

Jungkook's cheeks burned instantly. She huffed without realizing it, the puff of air escaping into her teacup like a steam engine starting up. She looked away, then looked back. Then quickly looked away again.

Oh my god.
Why did it look like he was waiting for something?
No—no, not something.
Someone.

Jungkook squeezed her teacup tighter. "Stupid empty lap," she muttered under her breath.

Taehyung raised a brow from across the bed without even turning. "Hm?"

"Nothing!" she squeaked, shooting back down to the cup like it could shield her from his perfectly smug telepathic powers.

Taehyung smiled without looking at her. "Well, if your highness is cold and grumpy, and a little seat is waiting nearby..."

Jungkook gave him a look, pretty eyes narrowed and a pinched mouth and a visible internal battle not to stomp across the mattress and settle right into that stupid warm lap like she wanted to.

Finally, with a frustrated little growl, she flopped sideways onto the bed, pulling her tea cup with her.
"I hope your lap gets cold."

"It won't." His voice was sinfully smooth. "It's thinking very warm thoughts."

She let out a dramatic groan and buried her face in the pillow beside her, muffling her final muttered curse.
"...Menace in CEO clothing."

Taehyung just smiled wider and casually adjusted the pillow in his lap—just in case his grumpy little wife changed her mind.

The silence of the room deepened as night unfurled itself across the manor. Rain still tapped softly at the windows.

With a long melodramatic sigh that carried the last of her resistance, Mrs. Kim finally surrendered. She shifted forward, shawl still draped over her shoulders like royal robes. And with all the grace of a queen reclaiming her rightful throne, she climbed into her husband's lap.

Settled herself with a delicate little humph.
Arms crossed. Nose in the air. As if Jungkook were the one doing him a favor.

Taehyung froze mid-sip. His eyes darted down to the sudden, soft weight now curled into his body—and then slowly up to her face.

Jungkook didn't meet his gaze. She was too busy adjusting the imaginary folds of her invisible gown, and making sure her position was perfectly comfortable... right in the middle of his lap. Her legs folded neatly to the side, one hand tucked against his ribs like she belonged there.

Which she did. Obviously.

Taehyung blinked but his mouth slowly curved into a helpless smile. "So... this is happening."

"It was always going to happen," jungkook replied loftily, chin tilted, eyes still on the curtain. "You just weren't patient enough to wait."

"Ah. My mistake, Your Majesty."

"Indeed."

He bit back a chuckle, his arm sliding naturally around her waist. She didn't protest—only let out a quiet sigh, her forehead finally tipping against his collarbone, her tiny grumbles fading like mist into his shirt.

A beat of silence passed between them. Soft. Familiar.

And then, from beneath the shawl, a timid voice came: "...Your lap is warmer than I expected."

Taehyung grinned into her hair.
He didn't say I told you so.
But he absolutely thought it.

His one hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, Taehyung's long fingers threading gently through the soft, strands of her hair. They spilled over his chest like silk stained in midnight ink, each lock clinging lightly to the fabric of his shirt.

Jungkook lay pressed over the steady beat of his heart, her lips barely moving as she exhaled against his skin. Her fingers were fidgeting with his buttons—tugging one loose, then smoothing it back into place, again and again.

She stayed quiet for a long time. Long enough for the wind to shift outside, for the lamp's glow to flicker gently against the sheer curtains. Long enough for his heartbeat to steady beneath her ear, and for her thoughts to settle like dust after a storm.

Then, her voice came.
"But really, Mr. Kim... what possessed you to... to do that in the open? In the rain?"

Her brows scrunched up slightly as she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in a self-conscious pout. Her cheeks were warm with a slow blush, eyes wide and still glassy from earlier emotions. Jungkook looked a little scandalized, a little confused, and all too endearingly scoldy for someone who had very much participated.

"You—you ruined my dignity," she added, clearly trying to sound stern. "You're supposed to be the mature one. The older one. The composed gentleman. And then suddenly you're just—just—!" Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper, "Plunging me into rivers like a forest criminal and kissing me in thunderclouds like we're some wild storybook couple!"

Taehyung, who had been listening in amused silence, tilted his head, lips twitching into a slow smile. "You mean like the stories you pretend not to reread?"

Her blush deepened instantly. "I—I do not reread them—"

"You highlight the steamy pages," he deadpanned.

Jungkook gasped, scandalized. "That's not—! That is a gross violation of—!" She immediately tried to sit up and away from him, but Taehyung's arms only tightened around her waist, pulling her securely back onto his lap.

"You were the one who dragged me to the river."

Jungkook buried her face into the curve of his neck, groaning. "I was being whimsical..."

"You were being dangerously enchanting," he countered, laughing softly. "You smiled like you were born from stars and dared me to worship you. What was I supposed to do?"

"Say no," she whined, cheeks hotter now.
"But Mrs. Kim," he whispered with a grin, resting his chin atop her head. "You never say no to your own ideas."

She groaned again—soft, squeaky—and huffed against his skin. "I hate you."

"You love me."
"...Shut up."

Taehyung kissed the crown of her head, the way he always did when she got flustered beyond repair.
And Jungkook, red-faced and still curled in his lap like a fiercely betrayed kitten, closed her eyes again and sighed like a martyr.

Outside, the rain eased to a hush.

Inside, two souls slept in the warm silence of shared chaos, cheek to chest, fingers tangled in love and soft hair.

——-

The kitchen was bathed in a soft glow. Outside, the rain had faded, leaving behind dew-speckled windows and the faint sound of water dripping from the tress.

Inside, however, the warmth of something softer—sweeter—began to steam alongside the meal.

Mr. and Mrs. Kim had taken their places in the kitchen. Well, "taken their places" might be generous. Jungkook had announced, with a sniffle and a dramatic flutter of her shawl, that she needed Taehyung's comfort dish—the one he made for her a long time ago, the one that tasted like safety and made her cry a little the first time she had it.

But let it be noted—only one of them was permitted to do any actual work.

Jungkook stood beside him, wrapped in her shawl like royalty.

"Sit," he ordered, narrowing his eyes as she reached for the chopping board.

"I am sitting," she argued sweetly, leaning her hip against the counter.

Taehyung gave her a deadpan look.

"Mentally," she added, blinking prettily.

He sighed, already sensing the battle he'd inevitably lose, and reached around her without warning. With ease that made her squeak, he lifted her by the waist and plopped her onto one of the high stools by the island.

Jungkook pouted, crossing her arms. "You act like I'm going to faint."

"You were sniffling and shivering an hour ago. I'm not risking the wrath of your dramatic complaints and your fever."

She gasped. "How dare—!"

"Shh," he said gently, kissing her forehead. "Let me cook. You do your mental notebook thing."

And Jungkook did. With chin perched on her palm and her elbow resting on the counter, Jungkook watched him move.

Taehyung turned back to the counter, reaching for the apron that hung neatly by the spice rack. Without a word, he untied it from the hook, shook it once, and slid it over his head. The soft fabric fell perfectly against him, cinching at his waist as he tied the strings behind his back.

Jungkook, who had been chewing the inside of her cheek like a proper food critic, froze mid-thought.

There was something criminally attractive about that simple act. Maybe it was the way his forearms flexed beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. Or the way his fingers worked the knot.

Her head tilted a little. Her fingers stopped playing with the edge of her shawl. Her bottom lip popped between her teeth.

Unfair, Jungkook thought.

First, Taehyung took a deep bowl from the shelf and measured out a generous cup of rice. The grains slipped from his fingers like pale pearls. He ran his fingers through them once, then turned to the sink.

"You move like you're in a cooking commercial," she muttered under her breath.

Taehyung arched a brow without turning. "It's called grace. Try it sometime."

She scoffed, wrapping the shawl tighter around herself like a shield. "Excuse me, I invented grace. Just not when I'm freezing and feverish."

He didn't respond—too busy measuring out water into the bowl. He began rinsing the rice, swirling his hand through it with a gentle motion.

"Bet you won't rinse it properly," she teased, watching him swirl his hand through the rice.

"Oh please," he said, voice flat with feigned insult. "I was rinsing rice while you were still eating mud."

Jungkook let out an exaggerated gasp. "I was a sophisticated toddler, thank you very much."

"Sure," he replied, switching out the water for the third rinse.

Cloudy water turned clear by the third rinse, and once satisfied, he set the bowl aside, letting the rice soak while he moved to the vegetables.

From the basket on the counter, he pulled out fresh potatoes, French beans, two long carrots, and a handful of garlic cloves—plump and white, still in their papery skins.

Jungkook's cheek was propped on her palm, her elbow slipping slightly on the counter as she leaned in further without realizing it—enchanted and entirely, utterly smitten.

Her gaze flicked to the clean arc of his jaw, the small furrow of focus between his brows, the way he pushed his hair back impatiently only for it to fall again. He was infuriatingly handsome. And clearly unaware of how much damage he was doing.

Jungkook exhaled, barely a sound, just a puff of warm breath from parted lips as she stared. Her chin slid lower into her palm, lips pursed into a dreamy pout. And before she could stop herself, a small sigh slipped out—

"So handsome," she whispered.

As if summoned by her thought, Taehyung glanced sideways. Jungkook sat up straighter immediately, pretending to admire the tile work on the backsplash.

But it was too late. He smirked.

"Wipe your mouth, wifey," he teased, flicking a bit of water off his fingers in her direction. "You're drooling."

"I am not!" she squeaked, swiping at her mouth defensively anyway. "I'm just observing. Like a responsible adult."

"Observing," he echoed, still grinning, "or eyeing me like I'm your next snack?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I am your wife, Kim Taehyung. I can do both."

Taehyung chuckled slowly and dropped the chopped garlic into the sizzling pan. The fragrance instantly curled into the air like a spell.

He didn't look at her when he murmured, "So... after food, then?"

Jungkook choked on absolutely nothing, then slumped face-first into her shawl with a groan. "I hate you."

"You love me," he said, tossing the carrots into the mix.

"...same thing," she mumbled.

Once the vegetables had softened just enough to glisten, Taehyung gently poured in the soaked rice, stirring it through the mix so that every grain was kissed with golden oil and spice. Then came the water which was measured by instinct rather than cups and a final gentle stir before he placed the lid over the pot.

Jungkook's legs had been swinging under the stool for a while now, her chin rested in her palm as she watched the rice pot like it was a ticking time bomb. A soft puff of air left her cheeks as she slumped further down, exaggerated boredom painted across her face.

Then, dramatically, she stood.

Shawl sweeping behind her like the train of a bored queen, she padded over to Taehyung, who was now wiping his hands clean. The soft glow from the stove lit his profile, eyes focused and apron tied neatly around his waist.

Jungkook leaned in just enough to peek at the glass lid, where a light fog of steam was beginning to form.

"Is it supposed to bubble like that?" she asked, squinting as if that would help her understand rice science better.

Taehyung didn't look at her. "Yes."

And that was all the opportunity Jungkook needed.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she slid closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from both the stove and his body. Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around his middle from the side, tugging him into the folds of her thick shawl, cocooning his tall frame with her smaller one.

Her cheek found his upper arm, and she let out a content little hum. "You're warm," she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

Taehyung glanced down, surprise flickering through his eyes before it softened into something tender.

"You feel safe," she whispered. "Even when you're being annoying."

He let out a soft breath that was part chuckle, part something unspoken. "That's the goal, you know. For you to feel safe."

"I do." Her words came like a secret. "Even your heartbeat calms mine."

There was a pause—quiet, full, fragile in a lovely way.

Then jungkook felt him speak before she heard the words—his chest rising softly, his breath brushing the top of her head.
"You know, this is my comfort food," he said, voice low and steady, like the kind of truth that didn't need to be dressed up. "It's a key to my heart."

Her eyes fluttered shut.

"If you ever miss me..." he continued, brushing her hair back behind her ear with a tenderness that made her melt, "just make this dish and eat it. I'll be next to you. Every time."

Jungkook blinked slowly, pulling back just enough to tilt her head and look up at him. She could see it in his eyes, the memory of something older than them. His childhood. His home. His past.

"You really mean that?" she asked, her voice a whisper caught between awe and emotion.

Taehyung nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"It's the dish my grandmother used to make when I was small and hiding from the world. She always knew when I needed it—without me ever saying a word. Now it's mine. And now," he paused, tapping her nose gently, "it's yours too."

Jungkook's breath hitched and then she tried, valiantly, to blink back the sudden sting in her eyes. But her pout gave her away.

"What if I mess it up?" she mumbled, sniffling into his chest like the softest little stormcloud.

Taehyung chuckled, a deep, fond sound rumbling under her cheek.

"Then I'll come running. Even if I'm miles away," he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Your disaster would still be my most favourite flavour."

Jungkook grumbled and laughed all at once, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her shawl.

"You say things like that and then expect me not to fall harder?"

"You're already married to me," he teased gently.

"I know. And it's becoming a problem."

Then, Jungkook squeezing him once more before leaning her chin against his chest and sighing dramatically. "It smells so good."

"I know," he replied, voice warm and proud. "Almost done."

"Then what?" she asked, softer now.

He paused, turned his head slightly so her sift hair nearly brushed his jaw. "Then we eat."

"And after that?"

He glanced down at her, eyes darker with meaning now, lips twitching. "Then I get dessert."

Jungkook blinked up at him with the most exaggerated, wide-eyed innocence she could summon—lashes fluttering, lips parting just slightly in fake confusion.

"Dessert?" she repeated, voice laced with a mist of mischief.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. he knew exactly what game his wife was playing. His hands rested calmly at her waist, beneath the fabric of her shawl.

"Mhm," he hummed, drawing the sound out deliberately. "Something... soft... dangerously addictive."

Jungkook's brows knit together with her best performance of unknowing concern. "We don't have cake, though. Or pastry. Or even ice cream."

Taehyung leaned in, his voice dipping low against her ear. "Who said anything about sweets from the fridge?"

Jungkook's breath caught—not enough to expose her act, but enough that her fingers twitched where they gripped the fabric of his apron.

She straightened her shoulders, her chin still propped against his chest, and blinked slowly at him. "Are you... implying something inappropriate, Mr. Kim?"

Taehyung gave her a look so full of smoldering patience and playful restraint that it nearly undid her. "I'm simply reminding my wife," he murmured, "that after dinner, I'd like a taste of something far sweeter than sugar."

Jungkook's face went crimson. She squeaked, slapped his chest gently, then immediately buried her hot cheeks in his sternum with a whiny groan.

"I take it back. I'm not hungry anymore. We're skipping dinner and going straight to bedtime where I can die of embarrassment."

Taehyung chuckled, utterly delighted, tilting his head so he could press a kiss to the crown of her head.

"No take-backs, wifey. You started it."

"Traitor," she mumbled.

"Delicious," he corrected.

And behind them, the pot gave a happy bubble—done, ready, fragrant.
Just like the two fools standing beside it, thoroughly cooked.

———-
I'm sorry for the cringe and overly sweet scenes-filled chapter.
Don't worry, just few chapters are left and then we will go on to the angst part of the book. Then you won't feel this book boring.
Thank you🌷