Everything happened so fast it felt like I was dreaming. One moment I was napping, the next I somehow had a ridiculously handsome boyfriend.
Not only that—he's so damn charming he's managed to steal the affection of my whole family. Even Buboo, that traitorous dog, has switched sides.
Hello? I've been the number one around here since forever. But now that he's shown up, I feel like some extra, like I'm sitting stranded on a tiny boat in the middle of the ocean while everyone else is laughing together onshore.
Three humans and one dog—so cozy, so lively. And me? Forgotten.
…ugh, I'm sleepy.
"Dream, Dream, Dream."
"Mmm." Who's calling me with that ridiculously soft voice?
"Getting sleepy already?"
"Eh—wait, why are you sitting so close?"
"Your parents said it's time for the ring."
That guy—the perfect-looking one—reaches out to brush my messy bangs away. I must've dozed off earlier. He's huge, but his hands are surprisingly gentle, his footsteps always quiet. Unlike me—lightweight body but my heels always crash like thunder, earning me knocks on the ankles from Mom.
Even now, when his big fingers touch my hair, it feels like feathers. Seriously, how's that fair?
Slip.
Click.
And just like that, with no planning, no announcements, no nothing—he slides a ring perfectly onto my finger. Like this is some shotgun wedding because I accidentally got pregnant or something.
What do you mean "no preparation"? What do you mean "not ready"?
Because when I look around—string lights glowing like fireflies under the mango tree, picnic table covered in a white cloth, candles scattered everywhere, fresh white roses tied with white ribbons into little arches… even our outfits, matching white shirts and soft tailored pants—it's all him.
He planned it, chose it, arranged it. He even cooked the food, though Mom had to step in when she couldn't stand watching him dart around alone.
Me? I can't cook. Just staying awake is already a battle.
When I slip a simple gold ring onto his finger in return, it's official. My parents look like they've just won the lottery—or, more like, as if I just gave them a pair of grandkids to raise.
Meanwhile, my freshly minted fiancé—who they've invited to move in and "supervise" me—is sitting straight-backed, eating and talking with them like some noble son-in-law. So elegant it's… irritating.
Clink.
"I heard you like this dish," he says, placing golden-fried shrimp onto my plate with effortless grace. Not a sound. If it were me, the clatter would echo down the street.
"Why bother making it yourself? Just order out." I grumble as I take a bite. But one piece isn't enough, so I drag the whole plate over.
Buboo eyes the shrimp, all sad-puppy. I, still mad at him for betraying me, toss him a shrimp tail. Not the meat, obviously. Serves him right.
"It's not the same," Handsome insists. "Even the oil makes a difference. Try it. Homemade tastes better."
"Tch. I can eat anything, okay? Even oil fried a hundred times over. I'm easygoing. Not picky like you."
Crunch. Crunch.
…damn it. It's actually delicious. Why the hell does it taste better than Mom's cooking?
"Is it okay?" he asks.
"I said I can eat anything, didn't you hear?"
My mom suddenly sighs dreamily. "Look at them, honey. Doesn't Dream look so suitable next to Kind once he's dressed properly?"
"Yes," Dad agrees. "Kind, take care of him for us. We're getting old. He's been stubborn his whole life—we didn't know what to do anymore. Heaven must've sent you to us. Now we can die in peace, knowing someone will keep him in line. Just… forgive him when he misbehaves."
My dad's even dabbing at imaginary tears like he's in some soap opera.
Ugh, give me a break!
"Calm down, Dad. It's just an engagement, not a wedding. Don't be so dramatic."
"You wouldn't understand how it feels to be our parent, Dream. You finally have a proper partner now. Time to shape up."
"It's not like I do drugs or get into fights. Look at me, I'm quiet, not causing trouble."
"Quiet, my ass." Dad glares at me, then turns and pats him on the shoulder. "I'm counting on you, Kind."
"Yes, Dad," Kind answers smoothly. "You don't need to worry. I'll look after Dream as if he were my own."
…Are you kidding me? Why would someone this refined voluntarily want to live with a lazy bum like me?
I don't get it. I just don't get it!!