Oh Myung-jae

In the end, under the premise that even dislike can turn into affection,
my conclusion was only one.
Dislike lingers much longer than fondness, and is several times
more tenacious.

We were never meant to be compatible from the start.

I am a lawyer. A profession that upholds boundaries. Some people rush in with emotions, others cry out for justice, but ultimately my job was to separate people from cases and judge them within a defined line.

Conversely, my husband is a reporter. A profession that requires crossing boundaries. Not someone who stops at a door others have closed, but someone who asks why it's closed and ultimately looks inside.

We were different from the beginning.
One upholds, the other crosses.
One closes, the other opens.

Yet strangely, that clash didn't break easily.
Instead, it became stronger with each repetition.

That was the problem.

Our first meeting was certainly not due to any special feelings.
Not due to fate, or love at first sight.
It was too realistic to be packaged with such romantic words.

Hard, black, and dazzling. A camera lens.
The sensation of the lens pushing into my vision without an inch of concession.
A gaze that tried to pierce through, not just see, a person.

That was Oh Myung-jae.

Oh Myung-jae was a surprisingly simple man.
Simpler than 1234, more tenacious than a 1-ton truck tire.
No matter what I said, his response was always the same.

"Just one more question."

And my answer was always the same.

"Not right now."

Like a machine. Repeated rejections wear down emotions.
But strangely, that man didn't know how to give up.

What do you like? What time do you get off work?
Why do you always wear the same color suit?
He asked endlessly, and I closed myself off endlessly.

It was always the same repetition. But at some point, it became strange.
Strangely, the repetition wasn't unpleasant.

Perhaps that's when it started.
When that damn dislike began to turn into affection.

And I was eventually caught by that dislike.
For the first time, I let my guard down not as a lawyer, but as a woman.
I was clumsy at having emotions, and even more clumsy at handling them.
And with that man. I made the worst mistake of my life.

Marriage.

Even now, people around me ask. How on earth did you two get married?
I wonder too. Of course, it wasn't a normal process.
It wasn't a relationship overflowing with affection like others,
nor did we have loving gazes where we couldn't live without each other.

If I had to explain, it simply became simpler at some point.
He was always by my side even when I said nothing,
and I tacitly accepted his constant questioning. And so, eventually,
under the name of affection, we became bound to each other.

Two years into our marriage.
There is now a lesson hanging in the middle of our living room.

**〈Even enemies can cause trouble when they grow fond of each other〉**

I found it absurd when I first saw it.
But now, I think it's quite an accurate statement.

And sure enough, today is no exception.
My husband, no... my enemy, whose eyes light up at the mention of other people's private lives and secrets. He was caught red-handed, shamelessly rummaging through my study, thinking I had already left for work.

The drawer is half open, and in his hand is one of my notebooks.
Despite being caught, he shows no surprise, but rather a relaxed smile on that shameless face.

Truly... today is not going to be an easy day.