Mr. and Mrs. Trouble

Morning in their new apartment wasn't peaceful. It was filled with the sound of clinking plates, humming from the kitchen, and one very annoyed Kevin.

"Minya, why is the coffee so sweet? Are you trying to give me diabetes or just kill me quickly?"

Minya, standing by the counter in an oversized T-shirt and messy bun, didn't even look up. "That's how normal people drink coffee. You've just become too bitter to handle anything sweet."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "That explains why I'm married to you."

She paused. Then she slowly turned to him, her lips pursed and eyes cold. "You're not even funny anymore, Kevin."

"But I used to be?" he asked, smirking.

Minya sighed and grabbed her toast. "Only to me. And clearly, I had terrible taste."

Kevin watched her walk to the dining table like a queen leaving behind a kingdom she no longer wanted. He didn't say anything. He just quietly dumped the coffee down the sink and poured himself water.

Minya noticed, of course. She noticed everything. The way he still walked around shirtless just to annoy her. The way he hung his towel on her chair. The way he'd wait for her to fall asleep on the couch before adjusting a blanket over her—thinking she didn't know.

And Kevin noticed too. How she color-coded her side of the closet. How she wouldn't touch raw onions. How she still slept with a nightlight. And how she smelled faintly of lavender and the past.

They were, in every way, Mr. and Mrs. Trouble.

Their days followed a routine.

Pretend to be madly in love in front of Kevin's mother and the world. Pretend to not exist for each other behind closed doors.

Except… Pretending was becoming hard.

"Minyaaaa," Kevin called out one evening from the living room. "Where's the TV remote?"

"In your hand, Sherlock," she replied from the balcony.

He looked down at the remote in his hand and scowled. "You didn't have to answer so sassily."

"You didn't have to ask such a dumb question."

She walked in, wearing pale pink pajamas with little peaches printed on them. He stared. Not that she noticed.

Or maybe she did.

"You're wearing fruit now?" he asked.

She shot him a look. "It's comfortable."

Kevin leaned back on the couch. "You used to wear all-black outfits with that punk look. What happened to you?"

Minya folded her arms. "I grew up. Unlike some people."

He chuckled, low and smooth. "You still bite like before."

"And you still provoke me like a five-year-old."

Silence fell between them for a moment. The good kind. The kind filled with tension neither of them could name.

Later that night, while brushing her teeth, Minya found a sticky note on the mirror. Kevin's handwriting.

> "Don't forget to take your allergy meds. You sneezed like an elephant yesterday."

She stared at it for a full minute. Then scoffed. "Still annoying."

But she didn't throw it away. Instead, she moved it to the side of the mirror.

The next morning, they went grocery shopping. Together. Because Kevin's mother insisted on a "couple routine."

They bickered through the aisles like an old married couple.

"Put the cereal back. That one's full of sugar," Minya said.

"But I like sugar," Kevin grumbled.

"You also like blaming me when you gain weight."

"That happened once!"

"And I never heard the end of it."

He grabbed a healthier box, then paused. "You still remember what I like?"

She hesitated. "It's hard to forget someone you used to care about."

Used to.

Those words hit him harder than they should've.

As they reached the checkout counter, the cashier—a cheerful girl with dimples—smiled brightly.

"You two are such a cute couple!"

Kevin blinked. Minya froze.

Then Kevin, smirking wickedly, slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Thanks. She still gets shy when people say that."

Minya stepped on his foot under the counter. Hard.

He didn't even flinch. He just smiled down at her like she was the love of his life.

Outside, she shoved him playfully. "You're impossible."

He laughed. "But I'm charming. Admit it."

"Charming like a mosquito," she muttered.

That evening, Kevin's mom sat them both down.

"I've invited my sisters to stay with us for a month," she said.

Minya choked on her tea. "A month?!"

Kevin blinked. "Here?"

She nodded. "They haven't seen you two since the wedding. And I've told them you're both madly in love."

Minya's eyes widened.

Kevin looked at her and grinned. "Guess we'll have to put on a better show, sweetheart."

She shot him a glare.

"Oh, come on," he said. "You love a little drama."

"I'll make sure it's dramatic, alright," she muttered.

The next day, Kevin walked into the bedroom unannounced while Minya was trying on sarees.

"Door, Kevin!" she shrieked, clutching the pallu to her chest.

"I've seen you in worse," he said casually, leaning against the doorframe.

"That was years ago," she hissed.

He tilted his head. "Still the same blush."

She turned away. "Still the same ego."

He walked in and grabbed the red saree she'd set aside. "Wear this one. It suits your attitude."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying I look angry?"

"I'm saying you look breathtaking," he said without thinking.

Silence.

He blinked. "I meant… you know. For the relatives."

Minya's voice was quiet. "Right."

That evening, the apartment transformed. Lights. Flowers. Laughter. His aunts came in loud, warm, and curious.

Kevin's arm stayed around Minya's waist most of the evening. She didn't move away. She smiled politely and played the role.

"Do you two fight?" one aunt asked.

Kevin looked at Minya, amused. "All the time. But she always forgives me first."

Minya rolled her eyes. "He dreams of that."

The aunts giggled. "Young love!"

Later, when they were alone in the kitchen, Minya whispered, "That was a lot of touching."

Kevin smirked. "You didn't push me away."

She stared at him. "You didn't give me a reason."

His expression shifted—just for a second. Then he turned away. "Goodnight, Mrs. Trouble."

That night, Minya sat on the balcony, staring up at the stars. Kevin joined her silently, handing her a mug of warm milk. Lavender, just how she liked.

"You remembered," she said.

"I forget everything. Except you," he replied.

She looked at him. Really looked.

"Why are you doing all this?" she asked. "Playing perfectly. Teasing me. Being… nice."

Kevin didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened.

"Because it's easier than admitting I don't know what I feel anymore."

She blinked. "What?"

"I don't hate you, Minya," he said. "I thought I did. But now… I'm not so sure."

Her heart thudded.

"I just want to survive this month," she said finally.

He nodded. "Then let's survive it. Together."