My Pretty Husband
It smells… amazing.
“You’ve done this before,” I said without thinking.
“Told you,” he murmured, flipping the chicken effortlessly. “Back when you weren’t here, I had to survive somehow. Unless you’d rather imagine me living off instant noodles.”
The image makes me grin. “Honestly? I can imagine that.”
Baekhoon chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
Within fifteen minutes, he’s plating a simple but beautiful dish — golden seared chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a perfectly runny omelet on the side. He sets it in front of me like a small victory.
Bab Populer