I'm panicking.
No seriously — I'm panicking.
This morning, my mother decided to treat me like a princess in a fairytale — one of those dramatic ones where the princess is being prepared for human sacrifice instead of a happily-ever-after. She ran a hot bath, scrubbed me down like I'd been rolling in dirt, washed my hair like she was massaging shampoo into a stubborn cow, and did everything from manicure to pedicure to facials.
"I'm just making sure my daughter glows," she cooed.
Glow? Lady, I'm glowing from sheer panic sweat.
I'm panicking.
They started fitting the wedding dress on me — tightening the bodice like they were trying to reshape my spine. I couldn't breathe. I looked like royalty, yes, but a very stressed royal. One who may or may not run away at any moment.
I'm panicking.
"Oh, Michelle, you look fabulous!" my mother beamed, handing me the bouquet like it was a trophy for making it this far without fainting.
Fabulous? More like fantastically doomed.
I'm panicking.
I stood behind the giant doors, hand in hand with my father. He looked proud. I looked like a hostage. The wedding march began to play and the doors creaked open like the entrance to a courtroom where I was about to be sentenced to life with Kael.
I'm panicking.
We walked. Step by step. My heels threatening to betray me. My bouquet trembling like a leaf in my hands. I began smiling from ear to ear. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me — smiling faces, camera flashes, and one particularly annoying videographer who almost tripped over his tripod trying to get the "perfect angle."
I'm panicking.
My father stopped in front of Kael and handed me over like I was a parcel on delivery. Kael, in his stunning tuxedo and blank expression, took my hand. I could feel the weight of his calmness next to my anxiety tornado. Together, we walked toward the altar and the waiting pastor.
I'm panicking.
The vows were coming. THE VOWS. Words that would officially bind me to this man — a man who ignored my existence up until, like, two days ago — for life. I tried to remember the lines. I blanked out. I just prayed I didn't blurt out something like, "I take this man under emotional duress."
I'm panicking.
The rings came next. They had our initials engraved on it "K+M" in a heart. They were beautiful. Gold bands with a small diamond on top, mocking me gently. I slid the ring on Kael's finger with trembling hands. He slid mine on smoothly. Like this was no big deal. Like we weren't sealing the fate of our souls for eternity.
I'm panicking.
"Do you Kang Kael take Jung Michelle as your lawfully wedded wife? "
Kael said "I do."
It was now my turn to say " I do". I was trembling, but Karl held my hand as a sign of comfort. So he has a warm side as well.
"Do you Jung Michelle take Kang Kael as your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do"
Did I really say it?
I'm panicking.
The pastor smiled like he'd just witnessed the beginning of a beautiful love story. "You may now kiss the bride."
WHAT?!
I'm pa-nic-king.
Kael leaned forward. So did I. Our lips touched. Again. And the cameras went off like fireworks on New Year's Eve. The audience clapped. My life flashed before my eyes.
This. Cannot. Be. Happening.
My single life is officially over.
It can't be.
It just can't be.
I, Michelle, am now married. To him.
I smiled at everyone like a model in a toothpaste advertisement, but as I held Kael's hand, I knew he felt it — the truth. My palm was sweating like a waterfall.
And I was still panicking.
By the time we escaped the altar and the confetti-rain of compliments, I had two emotions running through my system: absolute exhaustion and absolute hunger. One from smiling like a bobblehead on camera for hours, and the other from the fact that I hadn't eaten a single thing since I woke up — unless you count air and nerves.
The reception hall was a dream. Golden chandeliers, white and blush-toned floral arrangements, a pianist playing something fancy in the background that sounded expensive, and — wait for it — three massive buffet tables.
Score.
Korean wedding receptions are a bit of a mix: formal and elegant but also fast-paced. Guests come in waves, eat, congratulate, drop gifts, and leave. Like efficient social ninjas. No chaotic bouquet toss. No awkward best man speeches about how the groom used to wet the bed. Just food, beauty, and endless bows.
Kael and I stood at the front like we were hosting a royal ball. We bowed, smiled, accepted compliments from extended family I've never met in my entire life. Some old lady even pinched my cheek and said, "Make many babies, arasseo?" in the sweetest voice, like I was a cow being sold at a fertility fair.
I smiled politely while dying inside.
Somewhere between dish #3 and dish #6 (yes, I was going in on that buffet), I spotted them: my best friends.
Zane, Aria, and Maria crept in through the crowd like a drama trio entering their first scene. Truth be told, they couldn't get close to us because everyone was busy hugging our attention.
"Mrs. Kael," Aria called dramatically, sliding into the seat beside me with her wine already in hand. "How does it feel to be a married woman?"
"Like I just enrolled in a lifelong reality show without a contract," I muttered.
"I give her three days before she starts plotting an escape," Zane said, shoving shrimp into his mouth like popcorn.
Maria tossed her curls and winked at Kael, who had just returned to the table. "Hey, husband. Congratulations on being Michelle's life partner. Are you ready?"
Kael smiled, tight-lipped. "I've been preparing spiritually."
Good answer.
The reception was beautiful, yes. But the real celebration started when the guests left, the lights dimmed, and my friends dragged Kael and me to a private lounge downtown for The Real Reception.
We booked a VIP lounge. Neon lights. A personal DJ. A table full of snacks, soju, and beer that had no business being that cold and perfect. The energy? Unmatched. The dress? Still on. The shoes? Off. The bride? Free.
"I hereby declare this a judgment-free zone," I announced, tossing my heels to the side. "Tonight, I dance, I drink, and I forget I was called 'Mrs. Kang' by seventy people today."
"To forgetting!" Aria raised her glass.
"To freedom!" Maria shouted.
"To her probable hangover," Zane added, already pouring the shots.
We played drinking games — truth or dare, never have I ever (which got weirdly intense), and some strange charades hybrid Zane invented that included dramatic reenactments of our school days. Kael, to everyone's surprise, played along. He even laughed. Laughed. With his whole face.
I stared at him for a second too long.
He caught me.
"What?" he asked, smirking just slightly.
"Nothing," I said quickly, looking away. But my brain whispered, You smiled. I liked it. Stop that.
As the night wore on, I found myself dancing with my best friends, letting go of the pressure that had been glued to my back for the past 48 hours. I even danced with Kael — twice. Once out of obligation. Once because I wanted to.
He was good. Like actually good. Who knew my cold, emotionally unavailable husband could move like that?
At some point, I crashed on the plush couch, my hair messy, my heart light. My friends were laughing in the background, Kael was playing rock-paper-scissors with Maria, and I felt content.
For the first time with Kael.
It clocked midnight. I ordered for a cake with candles to be brought. I sang happy birthday to Kael, who smile was attacking my heart.
I think I like being married.
Not the rules. Not the pressure. Not the whole get pregnant soon hints from the aunties. But this. This feeling.
Laughter. Lightness. No panic.
Just… this.
I hope it stays like this.
Forever might not feel so scary if it looks like this.
That was until Kael told me he was "gay". Again it's not bad, cause now I know we would have no sexual interest in each other.