Jiyeon squinted at the eggs lined up in a neat little row on the counter, hands on her hips like she was staring down an enemy. Kang had barely walked into the kitchen, still half-asleep, when he caught sight of the chef's ominous stance.
"Jiyeon, it's seven in the morning," he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Please don't tell me we're declaring war on breakfast."
She shot him a look that could've curdled milk. "Kang, today is the day. I'm making Yura an omelette she won't forget."
Kang snorted, finally awake. "Oh, I'm sure she won't. Isn't this the same Yura who thinks a boiled egg is a culinary mystery?"
"That's why I'm here, genius," Jiyeon shot back, throwing a piece of toast at him for good measure. "If I can make her like an omelette, I can probably get her to appreciate any dish."
"Ah, yes," Kang deadpanned, dodging the toast. "Because when I think 'romantic gesture,' I think egg whites and sizzling butter."
