She shakes her head. “That’s one translation, but that’s not really what it means when someone calls you that.”
I swallow, glancing over at Win, getting nervous when he just smirks.
I turn back to Lola for her to explain, knowing I shouldn’t question her, since she’s my little resident guru on all things Korean. “Um… okay. So what does it mean?” I ask her.
She grins at Winston and then faces me once more. Shrugging her little shoulders and dipping her fork into her noodles, she replies nonchalantly, “It means mine.”
I stare at her for a moment, even though she no longer pays me any mind as she happily scarfs down her mac and cheese. And then my eyes turn to my fiancé.
“Is that true?” I ask, my voice going as weak as my knees, so it’s a good thing I’m sitting.
He smirks yet again, looking quite pleased with himself as he nods. “That it is,” he confirms.
“So you’ve been calling me yours since the day you met me.” I don’t phrase it as a question, but he answers anyway.
“That I have, naekkeo.”
When I don’t—can’t—respond, he shrugs much like Lola had. “I just knew. And now here we are,” he says, and he gestures around to our kids, who are eating contentedly, at our dining table, in our beautiful dream home, after having taken a most definitely crazy path to get here.
I reach over and place my hand on his, my gorgeous engagement ring catching the light from above and sparkling as I squeeze his knuckles. “Here we are.” I give him a watery smile when his eyes meet mine. “And here we’ll always, always be. Together, in our real-life happily ever after.”
“Boom!” Nick and Ruby yell loudly in unison, startling me, making me jump and pull my hand back from Win’s as I turn to look at them. But it’s only to see them with their heads together over one of their iPads, and it’s then I hear the music of their video game.
I shake my head at my jumpiness and remind them no devices at the table, and when they point out that they’re all done and ask to be excused so they can go play, I shoo them off, smiling at their giggles as they hurry to take their plates to the kitchen.
“I love you, naekkeo,” Win murmurs, leaning toward me.
I meet him halfway, one corner of my lips tilting up at the endearment that has a much deeper meaning than I ever knew. “I love you too,” I reply, and kiss him right there to the sounds of the twins groaning “gross” before clearing their own plates from the table to escape our PDA.
Which we’ll never have to hide ever again.
The End