A shiver of nervousness rolled like a tiny tempest down your spine. You could stand on a stage in front of thousands of screaming fans, but the prospect of being on this show made you anxious. At first when your manager announced you would be on We Got Married, you rejected the idea heatedly. With time however, you began to anticipate the schedule.

You arrived on set, still unaware as to whom your “husband” would be. Generally, you found yourself capable of getting along pleasantly with everyone, yet the anonymity continued to leave you nervous. In front of the cameras, you were given a card directing you to a nearby restaurant, presumably to meet your partner for the show’s duration.

He had his back turned to you, but your suspicion grew quickly. You would recognize the back of that head anywhere. When you sat down in front of him, your thoughts were confirmed. Your on-screen “husband” was none other than your boyfriend. Trying to stifle your surprise, you smiled brightly and greeted him as you would a friend. He grabbed your hands enthusiastically, expressing his joy over finally meeting his “wife.” You sighed lightly at the sight of his excitement, lamenting the public affection you were soon to experience.

Although the two of you had been dating for quite a while, the relationship had been taken slowly due to busy schedules and practices. You were comfortable around each other, but at times you still found his romantic behavior to be suffocating and awkward in public. His romance was lovable and endearing, yet you couldn’t help but cringe at the idea of displaying affection in front of others. What if the secret was revealed? How would the fans handle such a disclosure? After a few moments of initial conversation, the crew and staff announced a short break to fix the hair and makeup of everyone on the show. Through the busy flow of crewmembers, you saw an obvious smirk creeping across his lips. Burying your head in your hands, you sighed yet again. He was going to torment you.

Enthusiastically, you received your first mission as a couple. Together, you needed to buy groceries, make dinner, and serve it to the other members of your group as a form of introduction. At this, you chuckled, looking forward to the reactions your members would have after “meeting” your husband.

As you approached the grocery store, he held the door open wide, waiting for you to walk in before following. When you lifted a basket to carry the items, he took it out of your hands gently, insisting that it be he who carried the merchandise. You rolled your eyes slightly, but let him continue the constant chivalry. It became a battle of sorts, with him tending to you excessively and you trying not to crack under the pressure.

Reaching towards the highest shelf, you stood on the tips of your toes in an attempt to grab the sugar. You felt a hand pressed lightly on your shoulder, as your boyfriend reached past your fingertips and pulled down the bag. He placed it in the basket, winking quickly.

“Aww, the sugar is almost as sweet as you are!” he said, smiling at you with tackiness. Rolling your eyes, you hit playfully at his arm.

“So greasy!” The duration of the shopping trip was marked by laughter. He called you by every pet name he could come up with, coining particularly bizarre ones in the process. Your participation in the program consisted mostly of amused responses and the occasional touch to his arm as you approached the boundary you had set around yourself.

The store’s cashier smiled politely at you, commenting kindly on the charm of you as a couple. Your boyfriend placed both of his hands on your shoulders, patting them lightly. Eyes widening slightly, you stood still, shy beneath his public touch. He chuckled softly.

“Isn’t she precious?”

***

His cute behavior doubled when you arrived at the kitchen. What began as fan-service and playful couple behavior had turned into his chance to express any skinship he had withheld before.

Any physical strain on your part wasn’t to be allowed, and he attempted a flirtatious food fight by wiping cream on your face. You played along as best you could, wincing away from the camera every opportunity you received.

It wasn’t long before your group members walked in to dinner, eyes wide at the sight of your new “husband.” Your leader Jiyeon kicked Dae lightly in the shins, trying to convince her to cease the childish giggles slipping between her hands.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said with a laugh, her dreadful acting drawing confusion from the nearby staff members. You delivered a sharp glare in her direction. She was only going to encourage your boyfriend’s juvenile teasing.

Dinner went by slowly, with mentally groaning every time he took your fork to feed you. Romance was fine in your eyes, but in excess and in front of the camera, you felt awkward and uncomfortable.

Recording had finally finished, and you walked briskly back to your stylist, closing your eyes as she began to remove your microphone and makeup. A hand touched your head, and you looked up to see your boyfriend towering above.

“Hey there, wife.” You rolled your eyes yet again, tugging him down to sit next to you.

“Why are you so greasy?!” you complained, a pout on your lips. He laughed, pinching your cheek with his thumb and forefinger.

“The fans love it!” You glared at him, sensing that your embarrassment offered him more satisfaction than the enthusiasm of the show’s fans.

When the two of you reunited in the main studio, your boyfriend was sitting quietly on a sofa and listening to music. You smirked, reaching your hand out and messing up the hair he had carefully styled minutes before. Startled, he looked up at you and sighed.

“Why did you do that?” he whined, his pout mirroring the one you had earlier.

“I’m just saying hello to my boyfriend,” you said, pinching his cheeks in the same way he had done. You leaned towards his face as close as possible, so that your lips were mere millimeters from his. “Just saying hello.” You pulled your face away before he could react, patting him on the head once more with the palm of your hand.

As you walked back down the hallway, you formed a large heart above your head with your arms, greasily pointing it in his direction. He sighed, leaning his head on the back of the couch. I’ve created a monster.