I had never wanted to get married.

At age twenty-two, I’d lived in the world long enough to understand the cycle of relationships, to know about human nature, and to have interacted with enough men to not want to form a lifelong attachment to one. Hell, I could have figured that out at age twelve, when a man first catcalled me on the street.

“Not all men are like that,” my mother would chide me. “Just look at your father. He’s a good man.”

I looked at my father, watched him patronize my mother, refuse to let her work for the sake of his pride, and send me away to my grandparents when we ran out of money. I watched my mother take all of this and ponder it in her heart, because it was what she believed God wanted from her.

I sat in church twice a week, in the pew next to my siblings, long braid down my back and skirt past my knee, and listened to the pastor preach about the recklessness of Eve’s decision, and Adam’s complicity for not stopping her. I heard that women needed to be guided by men, who were naturally better leaders than they were.

“We’re equals, sweetie, we just have different roles. Women are meant to be gentle and nurturing, and men are made to protect their families and make decisions. If you marry a good man, you’ll never have to worry for the rest of your life.”

My mother was always worried, but didn’t she insist that my father was a good man?

I met my best friend, Ji Eun, when we were fifteen and at church camp. My parents had debated about sending me to my grandparents for the summer, but the church offered me a scholarship for the camp after my parents revealed they’d found The Monologues hidden under my mattress. They were concerned that I was learning feminist ideologies and that maybe I’d become a lesbian.

I kissed a boy for the first time that summer. It wasn’t particularly voluntary; a game of Spin the Bottle with a bunch of rebellious church kids led to me kissing Ji Eun’s seventeen-year-old brother who had wandering hands and a forceful tongue (in the worst kind of way). I ended up crying myself to sleep that night.

My first relationship was in college with a boy two years older than me. I was eighteen and he was beautiful. He was the first person I’d ever fallen in love with, and he was the boy I lost my ity to. Growing up in such a conservative and religious household had made losing my ity a momentous and somewhat shameful event. We were together on and off for about two years, and eventually our relationship deteriorated into one where I used to hear the words “I love you” from him. We broke up when I discovered that he’d cheated on me with several girls. He told me that I deserved better, but I knew that he thought I wasn’t good enough for him.

After college, I dated around a bit, but there wasn’t anyone I could see myself seriously dating. Some boys were nice enough, some were handsome, and some were just ing terrible, but I couldn’t imagine myself falling in love with any of them, or any man. Was it possible to be in a heteroual relationship based on trust, respect, and equality? It didn’t seem like it.

And then I met Jimin.

At twenty-two, my main requirement for agreeing to date a boy was his level of attractiveness. So when extraordinarily handsome Jimin sauntered up to me in his parents’ restaurant and asked me out on a date, I said yes. Why the hell not? It’d be one date, maybe we’d make out, and then I’d never have to talk to him again.

But then he surprised me by being thoughtful and sweet and oh, so shy.

I was very used to guys demanding after the first date (it wasn’t the so much as the demand that enraged me. I wasn’t a commodity used to fulfill their desires!), but Jimin couldn’t even kiss me. We didn’t even kiss until like our third or fourth date, and I pretty much had to spell it out for him that I wanted him to kiss me.

I first opened my heart to the idea of loving him when he gave me a puppy for my twenty-third birthday and told me the story of how he lost his ity. Jimin didn’t have that macho manly quality about him that I couldn’t stand in other men; he could be vulnerable and let his emotions show like an actual functioning human being.

Was he perfect? Of course not. Was he sometimes controlling, often jealous, and occasionally ist? Duh. All men are like that, no matter how “woke” their feminist rhetoric is. There were many times I was on the brink of breaking up with him because I just didn’t want to make myself smaller to suit someone else.

Some of my friends couldn’t understand that, because why couldn’t I just wear a more modest outfit and have fewer guy friends? But why couldn’t I just be my whole self? Why did I have to change to suit Jimin’s and society’s expectations of how women should act? Couldn’t I just be myself and be loved?

But Jimin usually listened. He was the first guy who actually wanted to get to know me, like all of me. He’d complain about my slovenly habits and my annoying idiosyncrasies, but I always knew that he genuinely liked me as a person. I felt comfortable with him and I appreciated all the things he did for me, like cooking dinner after I had a long day at work, drawing me a warm bubble bath, and snuggling me to sleep.

We’d been through a lot, he and I, but I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

On the morning of Jin’s wedding, I stood in the doorway of Sun Jae’s room (suffering from a slight hangover), and watched him change our baby’s diaper, then press giggly kisses onto the soft skin of Sun Jae’s stomach.

“Oh my goodness, I love you so much,” Jimin whispered as Sun Jae grabbed a lock of his hair with a big smile. He scooped up his son into his arms and together they looked into the mirror hanging over the changing table. Sun Jae’s newest trick was bursting into laughter whenever he saw himself in the mirror. It was the sweetest thing and my heart melted every time he did it.

By the time I made my presence known, Jimin and Sun Jae had dissolved into helpless giggles and I was a bit worried that Jimin would lose his grip on Sun Jae by launching into one of his full-body laughs.

Jimin gave me a peck on the cheek, then presented our baby to me.

“Here’s your beautiful son! I’ll wake up Princess Grouchy so you don’t have to.” Jimin kissed Sun Jae’s hair, then smiled at me.

Haru had recently been the worst to wake up in the morning. Jimin and I usually played Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who had to wake her up, but it was nice of him to just do it.

“I made pancakes!” he called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

I kissed Sun Jae’s nose and he laughed. “See? Daddy’s perfect, right?”

Isabel arrived shortly after breakfast, just in time to help me wrestle Haru into her flower girl outfit. Jungkook was still asleep on the living room couch, but he looked so peaceful that no one had the heart to wake him quite yet.

“Mama,” Haru patted my cheeks as I pulled her tights up around her waist. “Is Aunt Anjali gonna wear a pretty dress like me today?”

“Mmhm,” I smoothed back her hair and kissed her forehead. “You two are going to look so beautiful!”

“Mama, can I get married?”

Isabel smiled to herself as she zippered the back of Haru’s dress and I appreciated how she loved my children.

“Of course you can. You can marry anyone you want to, but just make sure to pick someone nice and kind.”

“And pretty,” Haru added. “I wanna marry someone pretty.”

“That’s fine, but just make sure they’re nice and kind, too. Sometimes pretty people can be mean and you wanna marry someone who is nice to you.”

Haru looked up at me with a slight frown on her face. “Daddy’s pretty. Is he nice or is he mean?”

I laughed. “Haru, what do you think? Is Daddy nice or mean?”

She clapped her hands and bounced a little. “He’s nice! Daddy’s so nice.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, rubbing my nose against hers and kissing her. “Daddy is so nice.”

“But sometimes he gets angry and then he’s not nice.”

“Well, sometimes you get angry and you’re not nice, too. It’s just what people do sometimes. You just have to say sorry and think about it next time, right?”

“Does Daddy say sorry ta you when he yells at you?”

I flushed and Isabel pretended not to notice.

“Um…yes. Daddy does say sorry. Haru, sometimes people say things they don’t mean, right? When they feel upset or angry. Sometimes you say mean things when you’re tired or hungry, but you don’t mean them, right?”

Haru blinked at me and tapped her finger against her cheek. “Yeah. Sometimes you’se grouchy when you tired, Mama. And sometimes Isabel losed her patience when she’s hungry, but she always says sorry.”

I glanced at Isabel to see her flushing deeply, but I just giggled.

“Everyone is a little grumpy when they’re hungry, Haru!” I scooped her up into my arms and kissed her. “Even you, my beautiful little girl.”

A sleepy Jungkook stumbled into Haru’s bedroom and plopped down next to me, cross-legged and eager for a hug from Haru. The two of them exchanged kisses and cuddles. As I got up to leave, I saw Isabel fondly shuffle her fingers through Jungkook’s hair and he leaned into her touch with an affectionate smile. Isabel had recently confided to me that she was pretty sure Jungkook was becoming her best friend. They did spend a lot of time together in our home, and it was nice to see Jungkook getting along with someone outside of his idol life.

“Baby,” Jimin whined from our bedroom doorway as I passed him in the hall on my way to the bathroom. “Can you help me with my tie?”

I stopped and turned to him, taking in his pout and the knotted, crumpled tie clutched in his hand.

“Jimin,” I took the tie from him, shaking my head. “When are you gonna learn to tie your own tie?”

He grinned at me and held me loosely in his arms. “I like when you do it for me.”

I slowly unfolded the tie and smoothed out the wrinkles, then looped it around Jimin’s neck. He watched me with a rakish little smile, then bent to kiss my neck as I tried to knot his tie.

“Hey, mister. You better watch it before I strangle you with this tie.”

He gasped in mock horror. “My own wife!”

“Give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you,” I replied, giving his tie one last tug.

Jimin held my face in his hands and touched his forehead to mine. He breathed in deeply, eyes fluttering shut, then gently placed his lips on mine. I sighed into the kiss, put my arms around his neck, and drew him closer.

Haru scampered out of her bedroom and flung herself at Jimin, grasping onto his leg and jumping up and down until he finally stopped kissing me and caught her up in his embrace. The two giggled in delight on seeing each other all dressed up and took turns showing off their outfits. Haru complimented her father’s pants and Jimin just beamed. The cutest pair.

Within an hour, I was in Anjali’s dressing room with Haru, sitting awkwardly in the corner with my daughter perched on my lap and wishing that Jin had spared me this experience. Did he really have to make Haru the flower girl in his wedding?

Anjali, feeling triumphant, was very gracious to me. She tried to include me in the circle of bridesmaids, but most of them refused to speak to me. I understood. I wouldn’t have spoken to me in their position.

I felt a sudden sympathy for Gemma, who must have felt this way at my own wedding. Jimin had been kind of thick-headed about including her in the bridal party, even though he knew she loved him. It was a fact he conveniently ignored, especially as her relationship with Taehyung grew serious. But I knew, and she knew.

Just like Anjali knew about me.

To be fair, Jin also knew about my feelings for him and he hadn’t asked me to be in his wedding. He’d asked Haru, who seemed to feel the same way about it that I did. She sat sullenly in my lap, occasionally crying and often wrinkling her dress to spite me. Or Anjali.

Haru was very sad that Jin was marrying someone else, which was odd to me. I hadn’t realized her childish infatuation had grown so deep, but maybe it was because he hadn’t been as much a part of her life for the past year. She missed him, I knew she did. She always talked about him and said she wished he would visit.

Jimin was a groomsman, so I would be sitting alone for the ceremony. I knew his eyes would be on me, watching for any outward appearance of sadness or regret. I couldn’t blame him; I was the one who made him feel so worried.

I didn’t want to be there.

While Haru was getting her hair and makeup done, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. The venue they chose to get married in was vast and confusing, and I found myself lost in a series of interconnected corridors. Unable to decide which door would lead me to the bathroom, I stood contemplating until a door opened and Jimin appeared, looking disheveled.

“Oh!” He stepped back, startled. “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh my god, I’m so relieved to see you here! Jimin, where the is the bathroom?”

Jimin laughed and shook his head at me. “Are you lost? I swear to God, your sense of navigation is so bad, I’m surprised you don’t get lost in our apartment.”

“Please, Jimin, I have to pee so bad!”

He tapped his chin with one finger, teasingly contemplating. “I’ll tell you. But you’ve got to pay a price.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t say a kiss.”

“Ah! You’re right.” He pointed to his cheek. “A kiss and I’ll give you directions.”

I tried to maintain a grumpy face, but he was just so handsome with his black hair slicked back and his fitted suit on. When I kissed his cheek, he put his arms around me and pulled me in for a hug.

“Don’t – ”

“I won’t wrinkle your dress,” Jimin whispered in my ear. “By the way, have I told you how stunning you look today?”

“Only about five thousand times.”

He pulled back to look at me and I smiled to see the affection in his eyes.

“Well,” Jimin continued, placing a kiss on my nose. “You’re simply perfect.”

“I wish I could say the same about you,” I quipped, slipping out of his grasp. “Alright, love you and all that, but I’m about to pee myself.”

“I’ll wait for you!” he called after me as the bathroom door swung shut.

True to his word, Jimin had waited for me. He hadn’t noticed me step out of the bathroom, too busy with his phone. I studied him for a moment, admiring the gentle curve of his nose, the way his lips pouted, and how he raked his fingers through his shaggy black hair.

“Hey, you’re gonna mess up your hairstyle if you can’t keep your hands outta your hair,” I scolded teasingly. He looked up in surprise, then broke into a wide smile.

A smile just for me.

Jimin raised one perfect eyebrow at me. “Wanna sneak off somewhere and make out?”

“I mean...” I pretended to hesitate. He stepped closer to me and swept me into his arms, making a refusal impossible. He just smelled too good.

“Jesus, do you have to look so debonair today?” I mumbled as he kissed my neck. “Have some mercy on my poor nerves.”

His hand slid under the skirt of my dress, resting on my thigh in the most perfect way possible. I let out the softest moan as Jimin inched his fingers up my leg.

A quiet cough sounded near us. Jimin and I sprang apart; he coughed awkwardly and looked away as I rearranged my dress.

“Guys,” Jin said with a roll of his eyes. “At my wedding? Really? Right in front of the bathrooms? My nana is here and has to pee like every hour. You could have traumatized her.”

“Sorry, Jinnie,” Jimin replied with a cavalier smile. “She’s just so pretty today. Couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”

I smacked his shoulder and mumbled a vague threat under my breath.

A frantic pattering of footsteps echoed down the hallway. The three of us turned to look as Anjali ran down the hallway, bent over with her hand clapped over . Jimin and I stepped back to give her a wide berth; we both recognized the telltale signs of morning sickness. Jin tried to follow her as she rushed into the bathroom, but she slammed the door shut in his face.

“Can’t see the bride before she comes down the aisle,” Jimin reminded him. I smacked him again. What a stupid thing to say.

“She doesn’t want Jin to picture their wedding day and remember her vomiting,” I snapped at him. “I’m sure you can sympathize with her.”

Jimin grimaced. I had, in fact, vomited all over his shoes on the morning of our wedding day. Jin had been forced to run out to a shop and buy him a new pair (and some socks) last minute. It wasn’t my finest moment.

Seokjin knocked on the bathroom door, worry tugging down the corners of his mouth. “Baby, are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

Anjali just groaned in response.

“I’ll help her out,” I offered, patting his shoulder. “Why don’t you see if you can rustle up a cup of ginger tea, hmm?”

“Okay,” Jin’s glance shifted uncertainly between me and the bathroom door. “Text me if you need anything, alright? Right away!”

I nodded and pushed open the door.

Anjali was seated on the floor next to the toilet, her beautiful dress crumpled around her. There was a slight vomit stain on the edge of her bodice and her hair was in a frizzy disarray around her forehead.

She looked absolutely miserable, but her expression shifted from misery to abject despair when she caught sight of me.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “Does it have to be you, of all people?”

I crouched down next to her as best I could in my high heels. “Well…I don’t know about your other friends, but I do know what it’s like to be pregnant and incurably nauseous on my wedding day. Maybe I could help you.”

I handed her some wipes from my purse. She sighed and started to clean herself up.

We sat in silence for a while as Anjali tried to recover and I tried not to feel so awkward. I was in the middle of texting Jin to pick up a toothbrush and some toothpaste when Anjali spoke.

“Do you think I’m stupid for marrying Seokjin?”

I paused in the middle of my text and looked up at her. “Does it matter what I think? You should just do what you want,” I replied, not unkindly.

She bit her bottom lip. “He doesn’t love me.”

“Listen…I never saw Seokjin take care of someone the way he takes care of you.”

Anjali scoffed. “Clearly you’ve never paid attention when Jin is interacting with you.”

I flushed. “I mean, don’t marry him if you don’t want to. No one’s forcing you to.”

“Um, I’m pregnant with his baby? I’m not trying to be a single Indian mother, okay. My dad has a pretty high standing and he’d be so ashamed of me if he found out I got pregnant outside of marriage.”

I sighed through my nose. “I wasn’t in quite the same situation as you, but I told my parents and the media that Haru was a honeymoon baby.”

“They believed you?”

I shrugged. “They didn’t teach me anything about safe , so maybe they thought I didn’t know how to use birth control.”

Anjali stared down at her clasped hands and heaved a sigh.

“I…I got pregnant on purpose.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Her head shot up and she blinked at me from underneath heavily mascaraed false lashes. The effect was stunning, to be honest.

“How do you know? Even Seokjin doesn’t know.”

“I overheard you discussing your IUD with my friend Ji Eun at a party at my place. You can’t really get pregnant with an IUD, so I assumed you must have taken it out on purpose. I mean, you could have had health complications with it or something, but those are pretty rare and I knew you didn’t want to let go of Jin.”

She cleared . “Yeah, I don’t.”

“Okay, well, you got him. So, get out there and marry him.”

“You think I should?”

I stood and finished my text to Jin about the toothbrush issue.

“I think you should do whatever you want because climate change is gonna kill us all in a few years. Might as well die trying to be happy, right?”

I offered my hands to Anjali, who stared at me for a moment with wide eyes. I could see my blasé attitude had surprised her, but she put her hands in mine and stood.

“You know…you’re actually not terrible,” she told me as we washed our hands and checked our makeup in the bathroom mirror. “I always kinda thought you were a whiny that relied too much on my boyfriend, but I don’t know, I guess you have your good points. Although I still can’t figure out why Seokjin’s so obsessed with you.”

“I did rely on Jin too much. I’m really sorry, Anjali. I really, really want you and Jin to be happy together.”

She smiled at me. “Thank you.”

I sat in the back pew for Jin’s wedding. He stood impatiently at the altar, waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle. I watched him, but he refused to make eye contact with me. My gaze slid to Jimin, who refused to look away from me. I smiled and waved at him, and he grinned back.

Haru skipped down the aisle first, scattering her flower petals everywhere. Jin beamed at her, always the indulgent uncle. She ran up to him and he scooped her into his arms and kissed her cheek.

“Uncle Jin, let’s get married now!”

The guests laughed and Jimin and I exchanged an amused glance.

Jin smoothed Haru’s curls away from her forehead and kissed her. He whispered something in her ear and she buried her face in his neck, feeling shy. God, how adorable.

She scampered off the stage and ran to me, giggling.

“Mama,” she whispered to me. “Mama, Uncle Jin said I look like a princess in my new dress.”

“You do, little love!”

A hush fell over the audience as the wedding music began. One by one, the bridesmaids proceeded down the aisle, smiling and holding their bouquets. Haru commented on how beautiful their dresses were, how she wanted to hold flowers, and how she wished she could wear high heels.

I watched Jin as the doors opened once again and his bride stepped into the room.

His eyes met mine for the briefest of moments. I felt a rush of emotion, but then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he focused on Anjali.

His smile was so soft. So tender, so affectionate, so incredibly gentle.

Haru squeezed my hand. “Don’t be sad, Mama,” she whispered, smiling up at me. “Weddings are for happy.”

I grinned at her and kissed the tip of her nose, blinking back tears.

When I looked up again, I caught Jimin watching me.

We stared at each other for a few moments, long enough for Anjali to reach Jin, long enough for me to see Jin’s radiant smile in my peripheral vision.

Long enough for me to see the question in Jimin’s eyes and the insecurity in the downturn of his mouth.

We met up again when we entered the dining area, arm in arm. Jimin hadn’t said anything to me, had barely looked at me. I ached to pull him into my arms and whisper reassurances into his ear, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t be at all receptive.

I reached down and took his hand, lacing our fingers together. Jimin finally turned to me with a rueful little smile.

“So, like…what was up with those tears?”

I squeezed his hand. “I was thinking about our wedding. Just like, I don’t know? Jin and Anjali’s situation is similar to ours, but so different. I just feel really lucky that…that we loved each other when we got married, you know? I never had serious doubts before walking down the aisle and, like, I knew you wanted to be there and wanted to continue our life together and just…” I broke off as I started to feel overwhelmed.

“Hey, hey,” Jimin let go of my hand and took me in his arms. “Relax, love. I’ve got you.”

I nestled my head against his shoulder and took a deep breath. He smelled wonderful and I felt grounded, safe in his familiar hold.

“I just wish I had done better by you,” I whispered. I put my arms around his neck as he bent down and kissed my hair. “I wish I had stayed true to the promises we made to each other.”

“For better or worse,” Jimin murmured into my ear. “‘til death do us part, baby.”

I watched over Jimin’s shoulder as Jin and Anjali made their way to the head table, holding hands and smiling. Would they be happy?

I’d be rooting for them.

………………………………………………………………………….