My Pretty Husband
One brow lifts higher, his eyes narrowing just enough to make my pulse stumble.
“Baekhoon?” I muttered nervously, realizing my slip.
“Try again,” he said quietly, his tone sharp enough to sting.
I swallow. “Sorry — I mean… Oppa.” The word tastes foreign, unnatural, and I wince as it leaves my mouth. “Aish, can’t I just call you Baekhoon? Seriously, it feels wrong every time I say that. My tongue trips over it. It’s… it’s ridiculous!” I rambled, frustration spilling over.
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