choi yeonjun. 005

Yeonjun had spent months reminding you about your 25th birthday.

Every bad date ended with: “Clock’s ticking.”

Which was ridiculous because he was single too.

The problem was a promise you’d made at 10 years old.

Sitting on a playground, the two of you had pinky-promised: “If we’re both single at 25, we have to marry each other.”

A stupid joke neither of you ever forgot.

Tonight was your 25th birthday. 11:58 PM.

You sat alone in your apartment, suspiciously aware that Yeonjun hadn’t texted all evening. That worried you more than if he had.

At exactly midnight: Knock. Knock. Knock.

You groaned. “Absolutely not.”

“Open the door,” Yeonjun called. “This is an important legal matter.”

“You’re not a lawyer.”

“I’m honoring a sacred childhood contract.”

When you opened the door, you immediately regretted it.

Yeonjun stood there holding a tiny birthday cake.

And a cheap plastic ring.

You pointed at it. “No.”

“Yes.”

“You bought a ring?”

“It chose me.”

“You got it from a toy machine.”

“It was fate.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“You’re 25 and single. We’re both struggling.”

He walked inside laughing while you followed behind in outrage.

Eventually, the two of you ended up sitting by the kitchen counter eating cake straight from the box.

The ring sat between you.

“You know what’s crazy?” you asked.

“What?”

“You actually remembered.”

Yeonjun looked confused. “What? You think I’d forget your birthday?”

Your heart softened immediately. Because Yeonjun never forgot anything about you.

After a moment, he asked quietly: “Did you ever think about it seriously?”

“The pact?” He nodded.

You looked down. “…More times than I probably should have.”

Yeonjun stared for a second. Then admitted: “Yeah.”

The room fell silent. Because suddenly neither of you were joking anymore.

And the scary part?

The promise had lasted 15 years because neither of you completely hated the idea.