"This is the BEST part!" Mina squealed, pointing at the TV screen. "Watch, watch!"
Nana sat cross-legged on the floor between her two best friends, surrounded by empty macaron boxes and art supplies from their college class. They'd finished their afternoon painting session and were now doing what they did best: watching K-dramas and eating snacks.
On screen, the male lead grabbed the female lead, pushed her against a wall, and—
Nana's eyes went wide.
*What are they doing?*
The kiss was... different. Very different from the wedding kiss she and Zayne had shared. The actors' mouths were open. Their heads tilted at angles. They looked like they were trying to consume each other.
And was that—
*Is that TONGUE?!*
"OH MY GOD!" Mina fanned herself dramatically. "Look at that technique! That's what I'm talking about!"
Jisu was already dying of laughter, rolling on the floor. "Nana's FACE! Look at her face!"
Nana blinked at the screen, utterly confused. "Why... why are they eating each other?"
Both her friends erupted into hysterical laughter.
"EATING?!" Mina wheezed. "Oh my god, Nana!"
"She's so PURE!" Jisu wiped tears from her eyes. "Nana, that's not eating! That's a proper kiss! A FRENCH kiss!"
"French?" Nana tilted her head like a confused puppy. "Why is it French? Are French people different?"
More laughter.
"It's just what it's called!" Mina tried to compose herself. "It's when you use tongue. You know, a real adult kiss."
"Tongue?!" Nana's face went bright red. "You're supposed to use TONGUE?!"
"YES!" Both friends chorused.
"But... but why?!" Nana looked genuinely distressed. "That seems unsanitary! What if there are bacteria? What if—"
"Oh my god, you sound like your doctor husband," Jisu interrupted, still laughing.
"Speaking of which," Mina's eyes gleamed with mischief, "have you and Dr. Hottie done any proper kissing yet?"
"Dr. Hottie?" Nana squeaked.
"Your HUSBAND, Nana! Have you kissed him? Like, really kissed him? With tongue?"
Nana's entire face turned the color of a tomato. "We... we kissed at the wedding..."
"That doesn't count! That was like a grandma kiss! I'm talking about a REAL kiss! The kind that makes your toes curl! The kind where—"
"MINA!" Nana covered her face with her hands.
"You should try it," Jisu suggested, more gently than Mina but still grinning. "That's what husbands and wives do, you know. It's normal! Romantic!"
"Really?" Nana peeked through her fingers.
"YES!" Both friends insisted.
"You're married now," Mina continued, pulling up the drama scene again. "See? This is what married couples do. You should totally ask him about it."
"Ask... ask Zayne... about French kissing?" Nana's voice was tiny.
"YES! Just be like, 'Husband, what is French kissing and can you show me?'" Mina demonstrated with exaggerated innocence.
Jisu nodded enthusiastically. "He's a doctor! He can explain it scientifically! And then demonstrate! For educational purposes!"
"Educational..." Nana repeated slowly, her curious nature already taking over. "I mean... I am curious about it. In the drama, they looked like they enjoyed it. And if it's what married people do..."
"THAT'S OUR GIRL!" Mina high-fived Jisu. "Go home and ask your hot doctor husband about French kissing! Report back immediately!"
"I don't know..." Nana bit her lip. "What if he thinks I'm weird?"
"He married you," Jisu pointed out. "He already knows you're weird. He likes weird."
"And he looks at you like you hung the moon," Mina added. "Trust me, he'll be HAPPY to educate you."
Nana's curiosity was fully activated now. Her friends knew that look—it was the same look she got before climbing trees or talking to squirrels or trying to make coffee.
The look of someone about to cause chaos.
"Okay," Nana decided, standing up with determination. "I'm going to ask him! For educational purposes!"
"THAT'S OUR GIRL!"
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🌻🌻🌻
Zayne sat in his armchair, surrounded by patient files and medical journals. He'd survived another day of surgeries, avoided thinking about the morning's carpet incident (mostly), and was now catching up on paperwork.
His coffee sat beside him—instant coffee from a packet, a tragedy considering his deceased espresso machine.
*Still better than thinking about this morning. About Nana underneath me. About her lips. About how close I came to—*
"HUSBAND!"
Zayne looked up to find Nana bursting through the front door with the energy of a small tornado.
"Hello, hamster," he said calmly, though his heart rate had already increased at the sight of her. "How was—"
She marched directly to him with purpose.
*Oh no. I know that look. That's her 'I have questions' look. This is going to be a disaster.*
Nana stopped in front of his chair, hands clasped behind her back, rocking on her heels.
"Zayne," she began, with the seriousness of someone about to discuss international politics. "I have a question. An important question. For educational purposes."
Educational purposes. Why does that sound ominous.
"What is it?" he asked carefully, setting down his pen.
Nana took a deep breath.
"What is French kissing?"
Time stopped.
The pen slipped from his fingers.
His brain short-circuited.
WHAT.
*WHAT DID SHE JUST ASK.*
*FRENCH KISSING.*
*SHE ASKED ABOUT FRENCH KISSING.*
*WHY. WHY WOULD SHE ASK THAT. WHO TOLD HER ABOUT—*
"Zayne?" Nana tilted her head. "Are you okay? Your face just did something weird."
He was definitely not okay.
His face was probably doing MANY weird things.
*Compose yourself. You're a doctor. You can discuss human physiology professionally. This is just... anatomy. Biology. Nothing more.*
She's asking about FRENCH KISSING.
*I'm going to kill her friends. Both of them. Slowly.*
"I—" he started, then stopped. Cleared his throat. "Where did you hear about that?"
"Mina and Jisu! We were watching a drama and the people were kissing but it looked different from our wedding kiss. They were using tongue and it looked like they were eating each other and Mina said it's called French kissing and that's what married people do and I should ask you about it for educational purposes!"
She said it all in one breath, looking up at him with those big, innocent, curious eyes.
*She's going to kill me. This is how I die. Not from cardiac arrest. From my wife asking about French kissing with the innocence of someone asking about the weather.*
Zayne coughed—a desperate attempt to regain his composure.
Clinical. Be clinical. You can explain this clinically.
"French kissing," he began, his voice remarkably steady despite his internal crisis, "is a form of intimate kissing that involves—" deep breath "—oral contact with increased surface area engagement, including the use of the tongue to—"
*I can't do this. I cannot explain French kissing in clinical terms to my wife who is staring at me with those eyes while I'm having vivid mental imagesof—*
"—to stimulate the highly sensitive nerve endings in the oral cavity," he continued, somehow. "The tongue contains approximately 10,000 taste buds and numerous mechanoreceptors, making it particularly responsive to—"
"So the tongue goes IN the mouth?" Nana interrupted, fascinated.
*Yes. The tongue goes in the mouth. YOUR tongue would go in MY mouth. Or my tongue in your mouth. Or both. Oh god.*
"Yes," he said flatly. "It's a form of intimate contact that—"
"Can we try it?"
Zayne choked on air.
WHAT.
*WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY.*
*TRY IT.*
*SHE WANTS TO TRY FRENCH KISSING.*
*WITH ME.*
*NOW.*
His brain had officially left the building. His soul might have also departed. He was having an out-of-body experience while simultaneously being VERY much in his body, which was responding to her suggestion in ways that were highly problematic.
"Nana—" he started, his voice strained.
"For educational purposes!" she added quickly, as if that made it better. "Mina said you could explain it scientifically and then demonstrate! Like teaching! You're good at teaching, right? You teach medical students!"
*I teach medical students about CARDIAC SURGERY. Not about—not about—*
*She wants me to demonstrate French kissing.*
*My wife wants me to demonstrate French kissing.*
*I'm going to die. This is my death. Right here. In my armchair. Surrounded by patient files.*
"That's not—" he tried again. "We can't just—"
"Why not?" She looked genuinely confused. "We're married. Mina said married people do this all the time. And I'm curious. You know I get curious about things."
*Yes. I know. You get curious about everything. You talk to squirrels. You climb trees. You ask innocent questions that destroy my sanity.*
Zayne stood abruptly, needing distance, needing space, needing to NOT be in a position where his wife was asking him to demonstrate French kissing.
He walked over to her, and—
Flick.
He flicked her forehead gently.
"Ow!" Nana rubbed the spot, pouting. "What was that for?!"
"Your friends," he said, his voice low and dangerous—dangerous because he was barely holding onto his control, "are giving you inappropriate ideas."
"But Mina said—"
"Mina is a bad influence."
"But we're married! It's normal—"
"Flamingo position. Five minutes. Now."
"WHAT?!" Nana's eyes went wide. "But I just asked a question!"
"A question planted by your troublemaking friends who need to mind their own business." He pointed to the corner. "Five minutes. Think about better influences."
"This is so unfair!" Nana complained, but she trudged to the corner and assumed the flamingo position—standing on one leg, arms out for balance.
She looked ridiculous.
And adorable.
And he needed her in that corner so he could have a mental breakdown in peace.
She asked about French kissing.
She wanted to try it.
With me.
Right now.
In the living room.
Zayne sat back down in his chair, picked up a patient file, and stared at it without seeing a single word.
His brain was too busy imagining—
*Her lips.*
*Soft. Pink. Slightly parted when she asked the question.*
*What would it be like to kiss her properly? To taste her? To feel her tongue against mine?*
*Would she make sounds? Would she grab my shirt like this morning? Would she—*
"Zayne?" Nana called from her corner. "Can I ask another question?"
No. Absolutely not. No more questions.
"What?" he said tiredly.
"What does French kissing feel like?"
*I'M GOING TO DIE.*
"I don't know," he said.
"Really? But you're experienced!"
WHAT.
"I'm not—where did you get that idea?!"
"You're 27! And handsome! And you're a doctor! Mina said doctors are always experienced because nurses—"
"MINA NEEDS TO STOP TALKING."
Nana giggled from her corner. "So you don't know either?"
*I know. I know exactly what it's like. I know it's intimate and intense and would be absolutely catastrophic with you because I can barely survive you asking about it, let alone actually doing it.*
"It's a neurological and physiological response involving increased dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin production," he said clinically. "Elevated heart rate, increased blood flow to certain areas, heightened sensory perception—"
"That sounds nice," Nana mused. "Can we try when I'm done with punishment?"
Zayne's patient file crumpled in his grip.
*She's going to kill me. Death by innocent curiosity.*
"No," he said firmly. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
*Because I barely survived this morning with you underneath me. Because thinking about your lips is already destroying my concentration. Because if I actually kissed you properly, I would lose what little control I have left. Because—*
"Because you're being punished for listening to bad influences," he said instead.
"That's not a real reason!"
*It's the only reason I can say out loud without completely losing my mind.*
"Four minutes left," he announced. "Use the time wisely."
Nana huffed but stayed in position, wobbling slightly on one leg.
Zayne tried to focus on his work.
Her pink lips.
*So soft. When I flicked her forehead, she pouted. Those lips. What would they taste like? Would she be shy? Eager? Would she—*
He slammed the file shut.
*I need a cold shower. Multiple cold showers. An ice bath. Maybe I should just sleep in the freezer.*
"Time's up!" Nana announced exactly four minutes and thirty seconds later, dropping her leg and bounding over. "So now can we—"
"No." He stood abruptly. "I need to... review surgical notes. In my study. Alone."
"But—"
"Alone, hamster."
She pouted—those lips again, driving him insane—but nodded. "Fine. But I'm going to keep asking!"
I know. That's what I'm afraid of.
Zayne fled to his study, closed the door, and leaned against it.
She wants to try French kissing.
My innocent, curious, chaos-incarnate wife wants me to teach her how to French kiss.
For educational purposes.
His hands were shaking.
Actually shaking.
*I'm a cardiac surgeon. I have steady hands. I operate on HEARTS. Why are my hands shaking?*
He looked down at them, watching them tremble.
Her lips. Her tongue. Her mouth. Against mine. In mine.
Learning. Exploring. Curious as always.
*Would she make those small sounds she makes when she eats macarons? Would she grab my shoulders? Would she press closer?*
"STOP," he said aloud to his empty study. "Stop thinking about it."
His body was not listening.
His imagination was running wild.
*I need intervention. Medical intervention. Cold shower. Now.*
He headed toward the bathroom attached to his study, already loosening his tie—the new one, since Nana had destroyed the other.
*Cold shower. Very cold. Arctic cold.*
*Maybe hypothermia will help.*
*Probably not.*
*But at this point, I'll try anything.*
ZAYNE'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE - 7:15 PM (IN THE SHOWER)**
Medical log - Day Five:
EMERGENCY ENTRY.
Wife asked about French kissing.
Wife wanted to try French kissing.
Wife said "Can we try it?" with the innocence of someone asking to try a new macaron flavor.
My brain has short-circuited. My composure has failed. My control is nonexistent.
Current status: Hiding in shower. Water temperature: 8 degrees Celsius. Helping: Not at all.
Physiological response to query:
- Heart rate: 142 BPM
- Blood pressure: Significantly elevated
- Cognitive function: Severely impaired
- Concentration: Impossible
- Thought patterns: Obsessively fixated on wife's lips
Mental images I cannot stop:
- Her lips
- Her tongue
- Her mouth
- Her making small sounds
- Her grabbing my shirt
- Her underneath me (AGAIN)
- Her looking up at me
- Her asking "like this?" in that curious voice
I'm going to die. I'm definitely going to die.
Note: Her friends are dangerous. Mina and Jisu are now on my list. I will freeze them. Both of them. Solid ice.
Additional note: She said she'll keep asking. She WILL keep asking. She never lets things go when she's curious. This is the squirrel incident all over again except worse. So much worse.
Prescription for self:
- Avoid wife (impossible, she lives here)
- Avoid wife's lips (impossible, they're on her face)
- Avoid wife's questions (IMPOSSIBLE, she's a walking question generator)
- Cold showers (current strategy, failing)
- Professional distance (laughable)
- Acceptance of inevitable death by curiosity (likely outcome)
She wants to try French kissing.
For educational purposes.
My innocent, adorable, chaos-generating wife wants me to teach her French kissing.
And I—
—I want to. Desperately. Catastrophically. Inappropriately intensely.
I want to teach her. I want to show her. I want to feel her lips and taste her and hear what sounds she makes and—
STOP.
This is concerning. Very concerning.
I'm a professional. I maintain boundaries. I exercise control.
But she asked so innocently. So curiously.
And all I can think about is her pink lips and that little tongue and—
MORE COLD WATER. MAXIMUM COLD.
It's not working.
Nothing is working.
Prognosis: Doomed. Absolutely doomed.
But also... if she keeps asking... if she really wants to know...
..maybe one demonstration. For educational purposes. Purely educational.
NO. BAD THOUGHT. WRONG THOUGHT.
...
..but maybe?
I need help.
Professional psychiatric help.
Because I'm seriously considering French kissing my wife "for educational purposes."
This is what my life has become.
And the worst part?
I'm not even upset about it anymore.
I'm just... eager.
Catastrophically eager.
God help me.
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🌻🌻🌻
To be continued.