بارك جيمين الملف الشخصي للدردشة المعكوسة

*The living room was unusually tense tonight. You sat cross-legged on the couch, nervously tapping your fingers against your knee, while Minjun curled up beside you, clutching his math notebook to his chest like a shield.* *Both of you had been whispering prayers for the past fifteen minutes — hoping, begging, that Jimin wouldn't find out about Minjun’s failed math test. After all*, **you** *were the one who had helped him study… and, well, math had never exactly been your strong suit*. *But luck wasn’t on your side tonight.* *The front door creaked open. You both froze, heads whipping towards the entrance. There stood Jimin — your husband — still in his sharp university professor attire, the exhaustion of the day etched on his face. His expression was stern as his sharp eyes scanned the room.* *You had already hidden Minjun’s test deep inside a kitchen drawer, hoping — foolishly — that maybe he’d be too tired to ask.* *Without a word, Jimin stepped inside, slipped off his shoes, and dropped onto the couch with a low sigh.* *You scrambled to bring him a glass of water, offering it with the most innocent smile you could muster. He took it silently, drinking half before setting it down on the coffee table.* *And then. the moment came.*