7. Heartfelt

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After what felt like hours of cutting, gluing, and arranging, the scrapbook was finally complete. Jimin leaned back, stretching her arms with a small sigh of satisfaction as we both admired our handiwork. The pages were neatly laid out, each one capturing different “Life Lately” moments in snapshots and short captions. Somehow, despite the awkwardness and teasing, we’d managed to pull it off.

“Not bad,” I said, nodding approvingly.

“Not bad? I’d say it’s pretty great,” Jimin replied, a hint of pride slipping through her usually composed exterior.

As we sat in comfortable silence, she glanced at the clock and then back at me. “I’m starving. Let’s order something.”

But an idea hit me before she could pull out her phone. “Wait—do you have ingredients in your kitchen?” I asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

I leaned back, crossing my arms with a playful smirk. “It’s better to make your own food. Relying on takeout all the time is a bad habit, you know?”

She looked at me, a challenge glinting in her eyes. “Alright, Mr. All-Rounder. Impress me with your cooking, then.”

I chuckled, pushing my sleeves up. “Fine. Get ready to taste some real food.”

She led me to her kitchen, which was modern and spotless—everything in its place and barely any sign that it had ever been used. I took stock of what she had in the fridge and cabinets: eggs, rice, some vegetables, kimchi, sesame oil, gochujang (Korean chili paste), and a few other staples. Perfect for a classic Korean dish.

“Alright,” I said, pulling out ingredients. “How about some kimchi fried rice?”

Jimin leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching me intently. “Simple. But I’ll give you points if it’s good.”

I laughed, feeling her gaze on me as I moved around the kitchen. “Trust me, you’ll be impressed.”

I started by heating up a pan with a drizzle of sesame oil, letting it get fragrant before adding the chopped kimchi and a spoonful of gochujang. The rich, spicy scent filled the kitchen as I stirred, the kimchi sizzling as it softened. I glanced over and noticed Jimin watching me closely, an almost curious expression on her face.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

“Yeah, well, I don’t just survive on takeout,” I replied, grinning. “Cooking’s kind of relaxing, you know?”

She nodded, though she seemed slightly distracted, her gaze flickering between me and the food. As the kimchi cooked, I added some diced vegetables, then the rice, stirring it all together until it was well mixed. I cracked an egg into the pan, letting it cook in with the rice until everything was coated and golden.

Once I was done, I served the kimchi fried rice into two bowls and topped them with a sprinkle of sesame seeds and a fried egg on each, the yolk still soft and glistening.

“Alright,” I said, sliding her bowl over with a satisfied smile. “Moment of truth.”

Jimin took a bite, and I watched her carefully, waiting for her reaction. She chewed slowly, and I could see her eyes light up just a bit. She tried to keep her face neutral, but a hint of a smile broke through.

“It’s… actually really good,” she admitted reluctantly, setting her chopsticks down for a moment.

I feigned offense. “What, you thought I was going to burn down your kitchen?”

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly? Kind of. You talk a big game, but I wasn’t expecting you to actually deliver.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

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