The champagne flutes, half-empty and slightly sticky, there's also confetti, remnants of a surprisingly subdued New Year's Eve celebration, clung to the plush velvet carpet.

"So," he said, swirling the remaining champagne in his glass, "Another year gone. Another year of dodging bullets and thwarting supervillains." He hummed. "Another year of you giving me gray hair and rewarding it with kisses."

He leaned closer, his eyes twinkling under the fireworks exploding in the distance. "Worth it." he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. The fireworks momentarily obscured his face, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken promise in his touch. This New Year's Eve felt different. The air crackled not just with the electricity of the fireworks, but with something far more potent, something that hinted at a change, a shift in your carefully constructed reality.