Page 52 of From Paris to Seoul

Baekhyun shrugged, breaking the moment. “Anyway, since you so graciously agreed to eat at my place, I figured we should actually cook something instead of just making instant noodles.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we cook?”

“Well, I am. You… I don’t know. Canyoucook?”

I hesitated. “Define ‘cook’?”

He groaned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay, I’ll keep it simple—let’s make kimchi fried rice.”

I nodded like I knew exactly what I was doing. “Sounds easy enough.”

Baekhyun clapped his hands together, quickly pulled out a frying pan from a drawer, set it on the stove, and turned on the heat. Then, stepping back behind the counter, he gestured for me to take over. “Alright, step one: put the rice in the pan.”

I spotted a rice dispenser in the corner, grabbed an empty bowl, and filled it to the brim with rice. Then, without hesitation, I dumped the entire thing straight into the pan. “Like this?”

Complete silence.

I turned to see Baekhyun staring at me, his mouth slightly open. “…Uh, you need to cook the rice first.”

I blinked. “Wait… so the riceisn’tsupposed to be cooked in this pan?”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, pressing his fingers to his temples like he suddenly had a headache. “You need to boil the water first—” He cut himself off with another sigh. “Forget it, let me check if we have any leftover rice in the fridge.”

“Well, sorry, but the instructions weren’t clear!” I huffed in frustration.

As he rummaged through the fridge, I noticed his shoulders shaking.

“Are you—are you laughing?”

His back moved up and down. “No.”

“You are.”

Baekhyun cleared his throat, but his voice still shook with laughter. “So you are indeed a prin—”

I immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t.”

His eyes crinkled with amusement. Then, instead of prying my hand away, he gently lifted it from his lips, holding it for a second before leaning in—just enough to place a soft, lingering kiss against my lips.

“I missed you.” His eyes still twinkled with laughter. “But I really need to take over now before you burn my mom’s kitchen.”

With an easy roll of his sleeves, he got to work. He pulled out a cutting board, peeled a few cloves of garlic, and diced them with effortless precision. Then, moving on autopilot, he grabbed a container of kimchi from the fridge, along with some ham and a bowl of perfectly chilled, leftover rice.

I watched him from behind, quietly impressed.

He’d make a good husband one day.

“What?” he asked suddenly, not even turning around.

I blinked, caught. “Nothing, nothing.”

Baekhyun finally turned to me, a small smirk playing on his lips, as if he already knew what I was thinking. But instead of calling me out, he simply shook his head and went back to cooking.

He mixed the ingredients in the pan with practiced familiarity, the sizzle filling the kitchen as he poured in some sauce and a drizzle of sesame oil. The rich, savory aroma of kimchi and garlic thickened in the air, making my stomach grumble before I could stop it.

Baekhyun glanced over, his mouth curved into a lopsided smile. “Almost done,” he said as he plated the fried rice, then cracked two eggs, frying them sunny-side up to place on top.

“There, all done,” he announced proudly, setting the plates on the table.

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