"I know she's Jaeho's girlfriend," Johann said flatly, still holding the grocery bags.
"You never believe me when I say they're K-drama characters, do you?" Naima looked at him, half annoyed, half amused.
Johann didn't answer—just narrowed his eyes meaningfully.
Naima sighed again, glancing at the pile of groceries. "Okay… forget it. I'll make you fried rice first, maybe that'll fix your mood."
Johann smiled faintly. "You really think food solves everything, huh?"
Naima shrugged. "Yes. Fried rice. Peace. Life. World."
The elevator started moving up, leaving the building lobby behind. Naima glanced at Johann with a small, awkward smile.
This is my life now: grocery shopping + accidental rescue + K-drama crossover + fried rice. Totally normal day.
---
Naima's hands moved fast—chopping, stirring, frying. The aroma of garlic, chicken, and vegetables filled the apartment, turning the kitchen into a mini Korean cooking studio.
The final result? A huge plate of fried rice, golden and fragrant enough to make anyone hungry just by looking at it. Naima placed it proudly in front of Johann.
"Missing krupuk," she said, squinting at the snack bag on the table. "I only have potato chips. You want some?"
"Krupuk?" Johann raised an eyebrow.
Naima rested her chin on her palm, thinking. Okay, that word definitely needed translation. She grabbed her phone, typed quickly into the translit app, and after a few seconds, her eyes widened.
"Hmm… okay… krupuk means… fried crackers. Crunchy. Salty. Snack. You get me?"
Johann looked at the plate, then at her, still confused but smiling. "Crunchy crackers on fried rice… okay, I trust you."
Naima sighed in relief, then placed a handful of potato chips beside the fried rice. "Voilà! Gourmet fusion—Korean fried rice meets potato chips."
Johann chuckled, stabbing his spoon into the rice. "You really know how to… improvise."
Naima grinned wide. "Yes! Fried rice survives, snacks survive, drama life survives!"
For some reason, Naima suddenly felt like feeding him, like she was in a parenting simulator version of a K-drama.
"Aaa…" she said, holding up a spoonful toward his mouth.
Johann just raised an eyebrow—but opened his mouth anyway. Bite after bite disappeared, and Naima couldn't stop giggling at the absurd intimacy of it.
"When Mama sees this, she'll protest," Johann said suddenly, imitating a strict Korean mother-in-law tone. "'Don't you have your own hands?!'"
Naima burst into loud laughter, slapping the table. Johann looked at her with mock seriousness, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
"I'm serious," he continued, still in character. "Mama would be furious. Really furious."
Naima laughed even harder, nearly choking on her drink. "Oh my God, I'm feeding my husband, and he's role-playing his drama mom over my fried rice!"
When they finally finished eating, Johann leaned back in his chair.
"So, Schatz, I wonder… what happened to you? You've been acting weird since yesterday."
Naima froze mid-step on her way to the sink.
"You told me about a sleepy morning in Jakarta… then you woke up on a K-drama set in Seoul. You knew about that fine dining restaurant I never mentioned before, and the wine disaster last night! How did you predict that?!" Johann's tone was serious—but his eyes gleamed with amusement.
"I told you, bunny! I watched it in a K-drama called Cherry Blossom Season on TVNet!" Naima said quickly, her hands trembling a bit.
"TVNet? Isn't it NetTV?" Johann frowned.
Naima whipped out her phone, opened the TVNet app, and started searching. "It's not there?!" she gasped, eyes widening.
"Try NetTV," Johann said casually, tapping the table.
"Okay, found it!" she said, quickly installing the app. But as soon as she opened it, her face twisted. "All the K-dramas from TVNet are here… but Cherry Blossom Season isn't?!"
She inhaled sharply, like the world was crumbling. Johann just watched her, half amused.
Naima slumped, frustrated. "God… all I wanted was to watch my favorite drama, and now it feels like I'm living in it. When will my fried rice ever be normal again?"
Her face suddenly turned serious. She pulled a chair, sat down across from Johann, and looked straight into his eyes. Her breath caught slightly.
"How did we meet? You're not even my type. But here… in my dream… you're my husband."
Johann blushed; the freckles on his cheeks stood out more clearly. He took a deep breath, his tone suddenly half-serious, half-playful.
"We met in Jakarta… near an office complex. I was in a hurry, and then you bumped into me at the corner. Your hair tie got stuck on my shirt button. You thought I was a pervert and a thief. Then… you poured your coffee on me."
Naima's jaw dropped, eyes widening. Silence—then uncontrollable laughter burst out.
"That's literally a drama scene! Coffee spill, misunderstanding, blushes, chaos—all in one take!"
Johann tried to stay serious but failed to hide his smile.
"I was shocked. Security came. Parking attendants came. Thank God the police didn't—otherwise I'd have to explain to the German embassy that I got coffee-bombed by a random woman."
Naima covered her mouth, laughing harder. "So I was… the random accidental villain in your life? But somehow… the hero in your dream version?"
Johann shrugged. "Depends… are you planning to be villain or hero tomorrow?"
Naima smirked. "Tomorrow? Let's survive today first. The coffee war was enough for one lifetime."
Johann chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Agreed. But somehow… I like it. Dramatic first meeting. Makes life… memorable."
"Then what happened?" Naima asked eagerly, leaning forward like a drama detective.
"After almost an hour of misunderstanding… finally, you apologized," Johann said, his tone solemn but with a small smile.
"What? Me?" Naima frowned in disbelief.
"Yes, you. You promised to show me something you said didn't exist in Germany."
Naima raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"I thought you'd take me to Komodo Island or maybe the temples in Yogyakarta. But eventually…" Johann paused dramatically, holding back laughter.
"Where?" Naima pressed.
"Mangrove forest."
Naima blinked, eyes wide. "Mangrove forest? Pulau Seribu?"
"Yeah," Johann said seriously. "I thought it would be exotic… romantic. Turns out… still Jakarta."
Naima burst into hysterical laughter. "Kapuk Muara?!" she yelled, slapping the table.
Johann grinned, both amused and defeated. "Exactly. Romantic adventure in muddy mangroves. Not quite Komodo or temples—but authentic Jakarta experience."
Naima was still laughing, out of breath. "Only in my life… coffee war first, then mangrove tourism. Pure drama-level chaos!"
Johann patted her shoulder. "See? You make everything memorable—even mud and mosquitoes."
Naima shook her head, still smiling. God, when will my life ever be normal? It's like a mix of K-drama, absurd tourism, and grocery adventures.
Johann smirked and reached for her phone. "And you even captured my silly moments," he said, scrolling through the gallery, eyes twinkling.
Naima's eyes widened. "Wait! Don't—uhm—" Too late. Johann was already swiping through the photos.
The mangrove trip photos popped up:
Johann slipping in the mud, leg flailing midair, face caught between panic and drama.
Mud splattered on his pants, forming an accidental world map.
Johann balancing on a log, arms flapping like a modern dancer.
His red face looking straight into Naima's camera, as if begging, don't you dare post this.
One photo of him sitting on the ground, pointing at the camera—Naima's brain instantly adding the caption: "Serious question—is this a man or a failed K-drama character?"
Naima couldn't stop laughing, nearly choking on her giggles. "Oh my God… you're literally a mud man!"