Chapter 1

Taking advantage of the weekend to prepare for the holiday, I carried two big bags of groceries home, sweating from the heat.

Noah was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone, with a steaming cup of plain hot water right next to him.

I grabbed an ice-cold Coke from one of the bags and handed it to him. "Here, your survival juice."

He waved me off and pointed at his cup. "I'm giving it up."

I stared at him, totally shocked. "Wait, didn't you say Coke was your happy juice? Why the sudden change?"

Noah cleared his throat, looking away. "It's... not great for my teeth."

"Please. Last time the dentist told you to cut back, you walked out and bought a Coke to 'calm your nerves.' Don't try to fool me," I exposed him.

Caught off guard, Noah dropped his voice and blurted out, "My mom saw in her wellness chat group that Coke is bad if you want kids."

I just stared at him for a moment before cracking up.

Noah kept his eyes averted, but his neck and ears were flaming red.

*****

Seeing Noah's neck and ears burning red with embarrassment, I realized maybe I was just reading too much into it.

Men really did the strangest things for reasons that make zero sense sometimes.

"Alright, alright, I get it. Thanks for making the sacrifice for our future kids," I teased.

I laughed, gave his shoulder a pat, cracked open the Coke for myself, and said, "I'll drink it for you. Wouldn't want it to go to waste."

Noah just mumbled, still staring off into the distance.

I flopped onto the couch, grabbed his phone, and opened Instagram. To my surprise, his feed used to be nothing but gaming and funny clips, but now it was packed with workout routines and cheesy romance drama edits.

After scrolling for a while and realizing it was pretty dull, I just put the phone down.

That little incident was quickly forgotten. Later that evening, I carried a basket of dirty laundry out to the balcony.

As I reached for Noah's jeans, his underwear slipped out and landed on the floor.

I picked it up and paused, realizing it wasn't one of the pairs I'd bought for him.

I always got him plain cotton boxers because he said they were the most comfortable. But this one was made of some smooth, slippery fabric and fit way tighter than usual. It was not his style at all.

Did he buy this himself? He never cared about his underwear before. He just wore whatever I picked out for him. Since when did he start caring about the style?

I headed back to the living room with the clothes in hand, and there he was, curled up on the couch, totally glued to the TV.

I glanced at the cheesy drama playing on the screen, and that weird, hard-to-define feeling in my chest came back.

"Noah, since when did you start watching these sappy idol shows?" I asked.

I remembered it clearly. When the show first aired last month, he'd pointed at the male lead on the poster and complained, "Look at this guy. He's wearing more makeup than the girls."

He didn't even bother to look up, eyes still glued to the screen. "Oh, this show's pretty popular. Just watching for fun."

Not really caring about the show, I waved the underwear in front of him and sat down next to him.

"These look pretty nice. Are they new?" I asked.

He finally glanced over at me, then got pulled right back into the drama, and said, "Huh? Oh, I didn't buy them."

"If you didn't buy them, then who did?" I pressed.

"My mom," he replied offhandedly. "Didn't I tell you? She saw in her health group chat that Coke is bad, so she keeps nagging me about it. She sent me a package the other day, probably just grabbed these while she was at it."

My heart skipped a beat, but I kept smiling. "Your mom bought you underwear? She's pretty trendy."

"Who knows," he mumbled, already glued to the drama again.

The male lead he used to hate was now spouting cheesy lines at the female lead on screen, and Noah was totally into it.

I glanced over at his precious gaming console, which was now covered in a thin layer of dust.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up. As I reached for some fruit, I glanced at his phone. Someone had messaged him.

He picked up his phone, typed out a quick reply, and then flipped it face down on the table.

I watched Noah's focused profile, and the doubts in my mind just kept piling up.

After a while, the cheesy romance drama's ending song started playing in the background. Noah stretched and got up from the couch.

"Ugh, I feel all gross. Gonna hop in the shower," he said.

"Yeah," I murmured, eyes still glued to the credits rolling on the TV, acting like I was really into it.