Kpop Oneshots: Fanfics generated by AI

Forget me not - Sana

Once upon a time, in the bustling suburbs of Loveville, Jaiden and Sana were the embodiment of the adage "opposites attract." Where Jaiden was meticulously organized, Sana thrived in creative chaos. Their wedding was the talk of the town, featuring a regimented schedule of events and a cake that looked more like a Picasso painting than a dessert. Love truly is blind—or at least nearsighted.

Fast forward five years, and their happily-ever-after was looking more like a nightmare-before-Christmas. Monday was for arguing about socks on the floor, Tuesday for bickering over dirty dishes, and Wednesday for the existential debate over whether the toothpaste should be squeezed from the bottom or the middle. By the time they hit Thursday, they had consulted more lawyers than a mob boss with amnesia.

On one fateful Friday, after a romance-slaying session with their respective attorneys, Jaiden and Sana's car decided to take "till death do us part" a bit too literally and introduced itself to a lamppost. Lo and behold, their memories decided to bail out just before the crash.

Waking up in a sterile hospital room, bandaged and bemused, they were like two amnesiacs at a meeting of Anonymous Forgetters. "Hi, I'm... um, I forgot," Jaiden said, spotting Sana across the room.

"Join the club," Sana replied, squinting at the stranger who reminded her vaguely of her favorite soap opera actor.

Their parents arrived, tearful yet hopeful, delivering the doctor’s orders: "Play house to remember your house," they summarized.

So, Jaiden and Sana moved back into their shared abode—a house festooned with mismatched decor like a modern art museum after a toddler tour. Each day was a new-old discovery. They laughed hysterically when they tried to cook together, resulting in something that looked edible only if you squinted hard enough.

Jaiden found joy in Sana’s bizarre collection of teapots, and Sana was amusingly baffled by Jaiden’s systematic approach to life—his socks now had a filing system: by color, fabric type, and likelihood of being worn on a Tuesday.

As days morphed into weeks, their love rewrote itself. Life was a bizarre sitcom, and they were the stars, rediscovering each joke, each tender glance. But as their memories crept back, so did the pain.

One stormy evening, as they stumbled upon their wedding video buried under a pile of unopened self-help books, the dam broke. The past, with its petty squabbles and painful silences, flooded back.

They wept, not for the memories lost, but for the time wasted—the years spent not seeing what was right in front of them. Just as they had vowed in sickness and in health, they again vowed, amidst the wreckage of forgotten arguments and a newfound love, to combat their past with the might of their rekindled passion.

"We were like two terrible dancers at a wedding," Jaiden chuckled, "stepping on each other’s toes until we found our rhythm."

"Let’s never lose that beat again," Sana whispered, entwining her fingers with his.

It wasn’t going to be easy. The socks would still find their way to the floor, and the toothpaste debate would resume. But now, Jaiden would build a shrine to odd socks, and Sana would paint a mural with toothpaste if it meant keeping their love alight.

They learned that the best kind of love isn't just found, it's built and rebuilt, a constant work in progress. And so, Jaiden and Sana, now equipped with the blueprints of their past follies, set forth to construct a future where every misstep was just another chance to step back, laugh, and dance again in the absurd, beautiful tango of married life.