My Pretty Husband
Then suddenly, his lips curve — not into a smile, but into a mocking imitation. “Yeah, OPPA, what’s up? Ahahaha, I miss you too, OPPA. Donghwa OPPA. OPPA. OPPA!” he said, mimicking my voice from earlier in the car. His pitch is high, exaggerated, almost ridiculous, yet his eyes are sharp and filled with annoyance. I scowl at him, heat rushing to my cheeks in irritation. I don’t even sound like that! Why is he twisting it, making it sound so silly and infuriating?
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