Easy Ways

Easy Ways

by Jaewon

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I came home from work to the sound of clattering pans and Ha-young humming off-key in the kitchen. She had her hair up in a messy bun, one of my old shirts hanging off one shoulder, and flour on her cheek. The entire counter looked like a war zone.

“Babe, what happened?” I asked, setting my bag down and trying not to laugh.

She turned around with a bright smile, holding up a slightly lopsided cake. “I found this ‘easy 10-minute cake’ recipe online. Thought I’d surprise you. Easy ways to be a better wife, right?”

The cake leaned dangerously to one side and had a suspicious crack down the middle. I walked over and kissed the flour off her cheek. “It looks… unique. I love it already.”

“You’re lying,” she said, poking my chest, “but I appreciate the effort. Sit down. I’ll try to save it with frosting.”

That was our life lately. Ever since we got married, Ha-young had been obsessed with “easy ways” — easy recipes, easy home organization hacks, easy date ideas she saw on social media. Most of them ended in comedy, but I wouldn’t trade the chaos for anything.

I sat at the counter and watched her attempt to frost the cake. Half the frosting ended up on her fingers, which she then wiped on my shirt with a mischievous grin. “Now we match,” she declared.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I said, pulling her between my legs for a proper kiss. She tasted like vanilla and laughter. When we pulled apart, the cake had tilted even more.

“Okay, Plan B,” she announced. “We eat it anyway and pretend it’s modern art.”

We ended up ordering takeout because the cake tasted like sweet sadness, but we laughed about it the whole dinner. She told me about her day on set — the co-star who kept forgetting lines and the director who kept calling everyone by the wrong name. I shared my own stories from the office, the ridiculous email chains that could have been one message.

Later that night, we tried another “easy way” — a five-minute couples meditation video she found. We sat cross-legged on the bed facing each other, eyes closed, holding hands. Within thirty seconds, Ha-young started giggling.

“What?” I asked, cracking one eye open.

“Your serious face is too funny,” she whispered, trying to stay calm. “You look like you’re concentrating on world peace.”

I opened both eyes. “You’re supposed to be meditating.”

“I am! I’m meditating on how cute you look when you’re pretending to meditate.” She burst out laughing and fell backward onto the pillows, pulling me down with her. The meditation video kept playing peaceful music while we wrestled and tickled each other like kids.

“Best easy way ever,” she declared, breathless and smiling up at me. “Failed meditation leads to this.”

I kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. “You make every failed plan better.”

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The next weekend, she decided we needed an “easy outdoor date.” No fancy restaurants or complicated plans — just a simple picnic in the park near our place. She packed everything herself while I was in the shower.

When we got to the park, the sky looked a little cloudy, but Ha-young was optimistic. “It’ll be fine. Easy dates are supposed to be relaxing.”

Ten minutes after we spread the blanket, it started drizzling. Not a full rain, just that annoying light sprinkle that soaks everything slowly. We tried to tough it out under a tree, but the sandwiches got soggy and the juice boxes leaked.

Ha-young looked at the mess and started laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. “Of course. Easy way to picnic equals rain. Why didn’t I check the weather?”

I pulled her under my jacket, both of us huddled together. “At least we’re together. Could be worse.”