If someone had told me back then that I would one day marry him, I probably would have laughed.
Not because he was ugly. And not because I didn't like him.
It just… never crossed my mind.
We were coworkers.
That was all.
In fact, I didn't really like him at first.
He was quiet, and whenever someone tried to talk to him, he gave short answers. Sometimes, when he was working, he looked so grumpy that I would think, *If this guy doesn't want to work, he should just say so. Why does he look like he just got left at the altar?*
He was kind of arrogant too.
Or at least, that was my first impression.
Whenever the office crowd was chatting noisily, he usually just sat there playing on his phone or focusing on his laptop. If someone asked him something, he'd answer only when necessary.
“You coming to eat?”
“No.”
“Want me to grab you something?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Don't feel like it.”
All right then.
End of conversation.
Sometimes I deliberately tried to talk to him just because I was curious whether he could actually say more than five words.
“Why do you give such short answers whenever someone talks to you?”
He looked away from his laptop.
“Do my answers have to be long?”
“Not really.”
“Then?”
I stared at him for a few seconds.
“Annoying.”
He just smiled a little.
“Just figured that out?”
See?
Exactly like that.
So annoying.
But strangely enough, the longer I knew him, the more used to him I became.
We often worked together.
Sometimes we'd head home together if we happened to be in the same direction.
Sometimes we'd eat with the office crowd.
Sometimes, when work got stressful, we'd complain together.
Whenever I had too much work, he helped without saying much.
Whenever he was overwhelmed, I usually helped him too.
There was nothing special about it.
We just both knew what it felt like to be tired from work, and we both knew when to joke around and when to stay quiet.
Over time, I actually started feeling comfortable around him.
Not comfortable in the sense that I liked him.
Comfortable as friends.
At least, that's what I thought back then.
One afternoon, we were all sitting outside after work.
I was telling the coworker beside me something when he suddenly chimed in.
“Can't you talk any quieter?”
I immediately turned to him.
“Why?”
“You're loud.”
I glared at him.
“If you don't like listening, cover your ears.”
He just laughed.
“Feisty.”
“Whatever.”
“Even though you're so tiny.”
I immediately grabbed a tissue from the table and threw it at him.
“What the hell?”
He dodged it, laughing.
“Joking.”
“I thought you couldn't joke around.”
“I can.”
“First time I've seen it.”
“So you've been paying attention to me this whole time?”
I immediately went quiet.
The others started making a commotion.
“Ohhh, snap.”
“Ooh, look at you.”
I hurriedly shook my head.
“What is wrong with you guys? There's nothing going on.”
He just smiled.
“Who said there was?”
“Your face.”
“What about my face?”
“Annoying.”
“Didn't you say I was tiny?”
I glared at him in annoyance.
“I'm going home.”
He laughed.
“Want a ride home?”
“No need.”
“You sure?”
“I'm sure.”
“All right then.”
I walked ahead.
A few minutes later, he caught up with me.
“Didn't you say you didn't need a ride home?”
“I'm going home too.”
“Your place is that way.”
“I take this way.”
“Liar.”
He fell silent for a moment.
So did I.
Finally, I laughed.
“All right then, give me a ride.”
“You should've said that from the start.”
I never considered our relationship anything more than friendship.
Even when some people started teasing us, I always denied it.
“What are you talking about? There’s no way he likes me.”
“Why not?”
“Just look at him.”
“What about him?”
“He's aloof.”
“And?”
“And arrogant.”
“You like guys like that?”
“No.”
My answer was always immediate.
“I don't like him.”
And I truly believed that.
Until one day, another guy started making advances toward me.
At first, it was nothing unusual.
He often tried to talk to me.
He often offered to drive me home.
Sometimes he brought me food.
My friends said he was thoughtful.
At first, I thought so too.
Until he started making me uncomfortable a few times.
The way he talked changed.
His messages became more frequent.
If I didn't reply, he would ask why.
If I turned down his invitations to go out, he'd get angry.
But I still tried to treat it like it was normal.
Maybe I was being too sensitive.
Until one afternoon, he waited for me outside the office.
I had just come out when he immediately approached me.
“Come home with me.”
I shook my head.
“No, someone is already picking me up.”
“Who?”
Before I could answer, someone stepped up beside me.
“I am.”
I turned around.
Him.
The guy who had always acted like he didn't need to get involved in other people's business.
His hands were in his pants pockets.
His expression was perfectly neutral.
The other guy looked at him.
“Who are you?”
He answered casually.
“Her friend.”
Then he looked at me.
“Come on.”
I was still silent.
He walked ahead, then stopped a few steps in front of me.
“What are you waiting for?”
I followed him.
Once we were a fair distance away, I finally asked,
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you get involved?”
He looked at me for a moment.
“He was making you uncomfortable, right?”
I fell silent.
“How did you know?”
“It was obvious.”
“How?”
“Your face.”
I let out a small laugh.
“What about my face?”
“You look uncomfortable when you are.”
I looked at him.
For some reason, I couldn't joke around this time.
Because all this time, I had thought he didn't really pay much attention to me.
Turns out, he did.
He just never said anything.
We walked several yards in silence.
Then he suddenly said,
“Next time someone makes you uncomfortable, tell me.”
“Why?”
“Just tell me.”
“And what are you going to do?”
He shrugged.
“Help.”
I smiled.
“Who are you, anyway?”
He glanced at me.
“Your friend.”
I nodded.
“Just a friend?”
He was silent for a moment.
“Do you want to be more?”
I immediately turned to him.
But he just laughed.
“Joking.”
I smacked his arm.
“Oh, gross.”
“What?”
“You scared me.”
“So you were thinking about it.”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I'm sure.”
He smiled a little.
I smiled too.
And for the first time, on the walk home that afternoon, I started seeing him a little differently.
Not as the quiet guy.
Not as my arrogant coworker.
Not as the person who had annoyed me more than anyone else all this time.
But as someone who had apparently been paying attention to me in secret.
I still didn't like him.
Not yet.
At least, I wasn't ready to admit it.
Back then, I still thought of him as a friend.
Just a friend.
And maybe that's exactly why everything began.