Alpha Culinary Love

Jiyeon cracked an egg into the bowl, her wrist flicking with the kind of precision only a professional chef could muster, but Yura wasn't paying attention to Jiyeon's technique. She was busy glaring at the pan in front of her like it had personally offended her.

"Yura, I've seen you give death stares at business meetings, but this is an omelet," Jiyeon remarked, her lips twitching with amusement.

Yura huffed, flipping the spatula in her hand. "It's

your

fault for turning me into an insufferable perfectionist. I used to be content with instant noodles."

Jiyeon snorted. "You still eat instant noodles, don't even lie."

"That's beside the point," Yura said, her tone all high-and-mighty as she finally poured the egg mixture into the pan. "You've infected me with your standards."

"I'm a culinary virus now? Interesting." Jiyeon turned her attention back to whisking her eggs, barely holding back a laugh. "Next thing you know, you'll be trying to perfectly julienne vegetables for a salad at three in the morning."

Yura shot her a sideways look, flicking a piece of green onion off the cutting board with her spatula. "You're mocking me. I can feel it."

Jiyeon grinned. "Only a little. But you're cute when you're serious about cooking."

"I am not cute," Yura deadpanned, giving the omelet an aggressive stir.

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." Jiyeon's grin widened. "Denial is just the first stage."

Yura glared at her again, but there was no real heat behind it. She flipped the omelet with a practiced move, surprising even Jiyeon, who raised her eyebrows.

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"Look at you," Jiyeon said, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Flipping eggs like a pro. Next, you'll be taking over my kitchen."

Yura rolled her eyes. "Please. I like being the one who gets fed, not the one slaving away over a hot stove. That's your job."

Jiyeon gave her a mock affronted look. "Oh, so now I'm just the hired help?"

"No," Yura said, grinning mischievously. "You're the overpaid, under-appreciated personal chef I married for convenience."

"Convenience?" Jiyeon feigned a hurt expression, clutching her chest. "Here I was, thinking you married me for my sparkling personality."

Yura didn't miss a beat. "Your personality isn't sparkling, Jiyeon. It's more like… glitter that won't come off no matter how hard you try to get rid of it."

Jiyeon cackled, tossing the whisk onto the counter. "Wow, I have never been compared to stubborn glitter before, but honestly? I'll take it. That's kind of iconic."

Yura smirked, flipping her omelet onto a plate. "You're welcome. Now eat before your ego inflates any further."

Jiyeon set her bowl down and grabbed her plate, sliding up beside Yura as they stood at the kitchen island. "Do you ever regret it?" she asked suddenly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

Yura blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone. "Regret what?"

"Marrying me." Jiyeon poked at her omelet, avoiding Yura's gaze. "I know it was a contract thing at first. But now… things are different."

For a moment, the kitchen was filled with the quiet sound of forks scraping against plates. Yura stared at Jiyeon, her expression unreadable.

"You're not an easy person to live with," Yura said, her tone neutral but her eyes softening.

Jiyeon let out a self-deprecating laugh. "That's an understatement."

"But," Yura continued, her voice steady, "I don't regret it."

Jiyeon's fork paused mid-bite. "Really?"

Yura shrugged, but there was a tenderness in her next words that belied her casual tone. "You're irritating, you never stop talking about food, and you have a tendency to monopolize the kitchen like it's your personal kingdom."

"Uh, wow. Don't hold back or anything."

"But," Yura went on, ignoring the sarcasm, "you make me laugh. And you care about the little things, even when you pretend not to. So no, I don't regret it. Not for a second."

Jiyeon blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. She opened her mouth to respond, but Yura cut her off with a sharp glare. "And if you tell anyone I said any of that, I will

end

you."

Jiyeon's grin returned full force. "There's the cold, heartless CEO I married."

Yura smirked, leaning in slightly. "I mean it, Jiyeon."

Jiyeon mimed zipping her lips shut. "Your secret's safe with me, boss lady."

They continued eating in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier evaporating. Jiyeon couldn't help but feel a warmth settle in her chest, a realization sinking in that Yura wasn't just tolerating her. She actually cared.

After they finished eating, Yura started cleaning up, which was a rare sight in itself. Jiyeon leaned against the counter, watching with a smirk. "Look at you, playing housewife."

Yura paused mid-swipe with the dishcloth and shot Jiyeon a look that could have withered flowers. "Don't push your luck."

"I'm just saying," Jiyeon drawled, "you're pretty good at this domestic thing. Maybe I should make you my sous-chef permanently."

"If you ever force me into a kitchen again, I will burn it to the ground," Yura replied, deadpan.

Jiyeon chuckled, grabbing a towel to help. "You know, that threat loses power when I've seen you make a damn good omelet."

"Enjoy it while it lasts. It was a one-time thing."

As they finished cleaning up, Jiyeon caught Yura glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, her expression softening again. It was subtle, but there was a warmth there, a quiet contentment.

Jiyeon wasn't sure when she had become someone Yura cared about, but for the first time, she wasn't going to overthink it. Maybe this was their new normal—teasing, insults, and late-night omelets.

And honestly, Jiyeon could live with that.

"Ready for bed?" Yura asked, setting the dishcloth down.

Jiyeon stretched, her muscles aching from the long day. "I thought you'd never ask."

As they headed upstairs, Jiyeon couldn't help but feel a strange sense of peace. It wasn't the glamorous, romantic love story she had imagined in her youth, but this? This was real. And it was enough.

"Well," Jiyeon said as they reached their bedroom, "at least the day ended on a good note."

Yura raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Don't get too comfortable. I'm still planning on making your life hell tomorrow."

Jiyeon grinned, her heart feeling unexpectedly light. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

As they slipped into bed, Jiyeon couldn't help but sigh in relief, sinking into the soft, plush mattress. Yura settled beside her, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her emails with that intense CEO expression she wore like armor. Jiyeon turned on her side, watching her for a moment.

"Do you ever stop working?" Jiyeon asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

Yura didn't look up. "Not when I have a hundred unread emails from people who think they're more important than they are."

Jiyeon snorted, reaching over to grab the phone from Yura's hand. "You need to relax. The world isn't going to implode if you ignore your emails for one night."

Yura narrowed her eyes but didn't resist as Jiyeon set the phone on the nightstand. "You have a bad habit of doing that, you know."

"What, saving you from yourself? Yeah, I'm aware," Jiyeon teased, grinning as she lay back down. "It's part of my charm."

"

Charm

is a stretch," Yura muttered, rolling onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

Jiyeon chuckled. "Oh, come on. Admit it. You love me."

"I tolerate you," Yura deadpanned, but the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly.

"Tolerate, love—same thing," Jiyeon said, casually shrugging like she hadn't just dropped a bombshell in their usually sarcastic conversations. She noticed Yura's expression shift, though—just a flicker of surprise, quickly masked by her usual stoic demeanor.

Yura let out a long, exaggerated sigh, turning her head to face Jiyeon. "You're insufferable."

"You're stuck with me," Jiyeon said with a grin. "Might as well accept it."

Yura's eyes softened, just for a second, before she rolled them dramatically. "Unfortunately."

Jiyeon couldn't help but smile at that, knowing full well Yura didn't mean it. This had become their rhythm—bickering, teasing, but always with an undertone of affection neither of them wanted to fully admit to. It was how they functioned, how they kept their relationship alive in the midst of all the chaos that came with running restaurants and businesses.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable; it was the kind of quiet that spoke of familiarity, of being at ease with each other even when words weren't being exchanged. Jiyeon closed her eyes, letting her body relax as exhaustion finally started to creep in.

"Jiyeon," Yura's voice broke the silence, soft and low.

"Mhm?" Jiyeon mumbled, already half-asleep.

"I… don't hate this," Yura said, her tone unusually serious.

Jiyeon blinked her eyes open, turning her head to look at Yura, who was staring at the ceiling again, her expression unreadable. "Don't hate what?"

"This," Yura replied, gesturing vaguely at the room, at them, at everything. "Us."

Jiyeon's heart skipped a beat, but she played it off with a grin. "Good to know. I'd hate to be in a marriage where my wife secretly despises me."

Yura smirked, but there was a softness to her features that Jiyeon rarely saw. "You're not

that

bad."

"Wow, high praise," Jiyeon said with a chuckle, but deep down, the quiet admission from Yura meant more than she'd ever say out loud.