Johann grinned proudly. "I call it... the adventure look. Authentic. Very Indonesian mangrove adventure style."
Naima nearly fell off her chair. "Authentic? More like... a living human meme! I should totally send this to Martha—but she'd laugh her head off and say I've gone crazy for kidnapping a foreigner into a mangrove forest!"
Johann patted her shoulder calmly. "See? You make everything memorable. Even mud, slips, and... humiliation."
Naima could only shake her head, laughing. "Oh God... my life is basically fried rice, K-drama, mangrove, and a husband who looks like a walking cartoon."
"But... it was worth it," Johann continued, his eyes twinkling. "Your dad called, told you to come home. I asked if I could come with you..."
Naima gasped, panicking.
"And you just—proposed—to my dad?!"
Johann nodded casually, as if he had just unpacked groceries.
"Definitely! Who would waste the chance to marry such an authentic... beautiful Indonesian girl?"
Naima smacked her forehead, nearly slipping off her chair again.
"So basically, I got married under gunpoint 😭"
Johann gave her a teasing smile. "Not because you were forced—more like... destiny forced our hands. Dramatic, isn't it?"
"Wait, you didn't use 'pelet' or something, right?" Naima asked innocently, her eyes wide.
"Why would I propose using... fish bait pellets?" he asked in perfect English, his face genuinely confused.
Naima burst out laughing. "Not that kind of pellet! 'Pelet' in Indonesia means a love spell—like, a magic charm from a shaman."
Johann blinked, then started laughing too. "Ah, I see. So you think I need magic to make you fall for me?"
Naima pretended to think. "Well… considering your charm level is about eight percent, maybe yes."
Johann clicked his tongue, then raised his phone, showing his banking app. "This," he said coolly, "is my love spell."
He chuckled. "Unfortunately, my parents are very orthodox Bavarians," he added dramatically. "When I told them I was marrying an Indonesian girl, they said okay..."
Naima raised a brow. "But?"
Johann shrugged and looked at her with innocent amusement.
"But when I showed them your picture, my dad said—'Bist du pedophil?'"
Naima exploded into hysterical laughter, almost spilling her green tea latte.
"WHAT?! Pedophile?!"
Johann just smiled wryly, like a man used to family drama.
"Yes... apparently, my father thinks my taste in women looks... suspiciously young."
Naima slapped the table, laughing uncontrollably. "Oh my God... your dad is so serious! I'm almost twenty-five 😭"
Johann joined her laughter, eyes gleaming.
"See? That's why I kept showing your pictures—to prove I'm not a pedophile. Just... a very lucky guy."
Naima wiped her tears from laughing. "Oh God... only in my life would a future father-in-law say something like that. Real-life K-drama madness!"
---
The next morning, Naima woke up to a warm breath brushing the back of her neck. She shrieked in panic.
"Who the heck—?!"
She turned around—and froze.
"Oh my God! Johann?! I'm still in Seoul?! Dear God, do I really have to wait a whole year before I can go back to Jakarta?!"
Without thinking, she jumped out of bed, hair a mess, eyes barely open.
"Okay… survive first. Breakfast next. Brain reboot."
She hurried to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, washed her face, then headed to the small kitchen.
In her head: Okay, breakfast mission on. Prepare for another chaos level higher than yesterday.
Soon the apartment was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. On the table sat slices of toasted bread topped with banana, melted dark chocolate, and shredded cheese—simple, but instantly cozy.
Johann walked out of the bathroom, hair damp, wearing a gray T-shirt and lounge pants. He sniffed the air like a puppy finding a bone.
"Boah, das schmeckt richtig lecker!" he exclaimed, biting into the toast.
Naima squinted at him sleepily. "I don't know what you just said, but lecker means good, right?"
Johann gave her a thumbs-up. "Delicious! Like… dangerously delicious. You sure you're not trying to make me stay longer?"
Naima chuckled as she poured herself coffee. "If that's all it takes, I should've cooked sooner."
Johann pretended to think seriously. "Hmm… marry me and make this every morning. Deal?"
Naima shot him a deadpan look, though a smile tugged at her lips. "You're just saying that because the cheese melted perfectly."
Johann shook his head as he chewed. "No, because you did."
Naima sighed, trying to hide her blush. "Oh my God, it's too early for cringe, Johann."
"Cringe?"
"Yes. Like… sweet but stupid."
"Then I'll be stupid for you," he said casually, sipping his coffee. "I call you Schatz because you're sweet like honey. But why do you call me bunny? Do I look as cute as a rabbit?"
Naima stared at him for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "As smelly as one, actually."
Johann froze, then burst out laughing. "Unbelievable. You're the only woman who can turn a compliment into an insult and still look adorable doing it."
Naima waved her hand dramatically. "It's called balance. You pour honey, I throw reality."
Johann chuckled again, eyes sparkling. "Then reality has never smelled this cute before."
---
After Johann left for work, the apartment felt too quiet. Naima glanced at the clock, yawned, then stared at her silent phone.
"Ugh, doing nothing just makes me homesick," she muttered.
She stuffed her laptop into her backpack, slipped into flats, and decided to take a walk to the nearby cherry blossom park. The spring air was cool, sunlight gently warm. She confidently walked out in a tank top and culottes, ignoring the sweater-wrapped locals staring at her.
The air in the park was crisp and sweet. Cherry blossoms floated down like pink snowflakes, a few landing in her hair. Naima walked slowly, taking pictures of fallen petals on wooden benches.
Suddenly—brak!
Someone slammed into her from behind, hard enough to nearly send her kissing the ground.
"Eh! Lihat-lihat dong kalau jalan!" (Hey! Watch where you're going!) she snapped.
The guy who hit her had also fallen but quickly stood up, bowing deeply. "Mianhaeyo!" he blurted in a husky voice.
Naima brushed off his helping hand. "Gak usah, gak usah! Laptop gue gak apa-apa kan?" (No, no, it's fine! My laptop—oh God, please tell me it's okay!)
She frantically pulled out her laptop, checking every inch, muttering in Indonesian,
"Anjir, kalau sampai rusak gimana? Ini laptop kantor, mahal banget tahu!" (Crap, if this thing's broken, I'm doomed! It's office property—super expensive!)
The guy stood stiffly in front of her, head to toe covered: dark hoodie, joggers, cap, mask. Only his eyes were visible—confused, like he was trying to remember something.
Inside, he murmured, Why does this feel familiar? Bumping into a girl… getting yelled at… where have I seen this before?
Meanwhile, Naima sat on the jogging track, turning her laptop on with panicked eyes. The screen lit up fine, and she exhaled in relief.
"You… okay?" the guy asked carefully.
Naima glanced up flatly. "Oke dengkulmu!" (Okay your knee!)
He blinked. "Excuse me, what language is that?"
Naima snorted. "Jakarta national language!"
"Uhm… what country is that from?" he asked sincerely.
Naima stared at him like he'd just landed from Mars. "Near the South Pole!"
He blinked again. "Ah… cold country?"
Naima dusted off her culottes and stood up. "Yeah. Extremely cold. Especially for people who can't see where they're walking!"