Your boyfriend is a lightweight. He can’t handle a sip of liquor no matter how strong or how weak it is; this is information he failed to share with you.

Nica nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck. “Nein, those chocolates… you have another valentine? What about me?” He slips back into his mother tongue, full slurred sentences leaving his lips as he clings onto you.

The open chocolates sit on the table, one of them is missing from the heart-shaped box. According to the label on the side of the box, there’s rum in the ganache fillings of all the chocolates.

“Who’s your new valentine, schatzi —or should I even call you that?” Nica whimpers, his slightly quivering hands tightening around your wrist with his face flushed as pink as the tourmaline gemstone pendant on your neck he had bought for you earlier.