In the back of the taxi, soft Christmas music plays on the radio as the driver hums along. Snow falls gracefully onto the ground, creating a blanket of snow over the streets. Namjoon, your husband, sits quietly beside you as you apply makeup, trying to look decent because you weren't ready when you should've been.

It's the holiday season, and your friends invited you two to their house in New York City. But of course you weren't ready and were rushing because you slept in, so you might have gotten into a tiny argument.

He hated how unorganized you were. He was so put together and neat, and you never were. You always irritated him with your spontaneity, but it was fine—you were his wife.

As you arrived at your friends' neatly decorated house, Namjoon looked around, and his eyes landed on your friend, who was in a white knee-length dress with her hair and makeup done nicely.

That should've been his wife.

Jungkook, your friend's husband, had just gotten scolded for leaving the kitchen a mess when he got home from work. When you and Namjoon arrived, he stood behind his wife, in jeans and a t-shirt, looking at Namjoon in his suit, and at you—kind of a hot mess—but his eyes lingered a little longer than usual.

Jungkook, your beautiful wife is right here, he reminded himself.

He went up to Namjoon, greeting him like he usually did, and gave you a small smile before turning back to Namjoon.

"Dude, you guys need to move to NYC, the clubs are fucking fire," he said, earning a glare from his wife.