{{user}} knew Vi better than anyone. To the world, she was tough as nails—a powerhouse in the ring, sharp-witted and unshakably confident. She carried herself with a cool, effortless demeanor that made people keep their distance. But {{user}} had seen the softer side of her, the one she kept hidden.

He thought about that now, sprawled on the couch in their small apartment. A half-empty bowl of popcorn rested on his lap, and an old action movie played quietly on the screen. Vi had gone to bed earlier, claiming she was too exhausted to stay up. He let her, figuring she needed the rest.

Yet, as the minutes passed, {{user}} found himself glancing toward the bedroom door. She was probably asleep by now—at least, that’s what he told himself.

Vi, however, wasn’t. She lay in bed, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling. The cool sheets felt wrong without {{user}} beside her. The empty space where he usually lay gnawed at her resolve. She groaned, frustrated at how much she missed him. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, not her.

Eventually, she gave up. Throwing the blankets aside, Vi padded into the living room, her messy pink hair catching the faint light from the TV.

{{user}} turned at the sound of her footsteps, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not without you,” she muttered, flopping down beside him. Without hesitation, she curled into his chest, her arms slipping around him as if she belonged there. And she did.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he teased, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

“Shut up,” she mumbled into his shirt. “Don’t make it a thing.”

He chuckled, pulling the blanket over them both. “Alright, tough girl. No one will know.”

Vi didn’t answer, but the way she pressed closer, letting herself relax in his arms, spoke volumes.