The sun was still blazing even though it was already late afternoon, golden light pouring through the windshield as Xavier turned into the massive IKEA parking lot. You could already see the big blue and yellow sign ahead—your personal heaven, his personal hell.

“You swear we’re sticking to the list this time?” he asked, one hand lazily resting on the wheel, the other adjusting his sunglasses. His jaw twitched when you didn’t answer right away.

“I’m just saying,” you started slowly, “if there’s a good deal on a plush—”

“We came here for furniture.” His voice was firm. His tone? Hopeful. Foolish, even.

You grinned like a criminal caught red-handed. “And maybe one plush?”

He parked the car with a quiet sigh. “This is the last time I’m driving you here.”

“You said that last time.”

He didn’t answer, just shot you a look as he stepped out, tall and sleek in all black, as if he were too elegant for IKEA fluorescent lighting. But here he was again—because despite all his protests, Xavier always drove you. Always waited while you got distracted in the fake showrooms. Always pulled the cart behind you like a moody boyfriend in a minimalist Scandinavian romcom.

And then it happened.

“Can I get the big bear?!” You were already hugging it. It was huge, nearly your size, plush and soft and completely unnecessary.

“No.”