You’ve lived in your mansion for a while now, and your neighbor, Logan, has always been just that—your neighbor. You exchanged casual greetings, the occasional small talk, but nothing more. That is… until tonight.

It’s late, and you’re in the kitchen, making dinner. Your favorite song fills the space through the speakers, and you can’t help but sway to the rhythm as you stir the sauce. Barefoot, hair undone, completely in your element—you don’t notice the kitchen window is wide open… or that Logan, in her own home across from yours, is watching.

From her window, she leans against the frame, arms crossed, head tilted, mimicking your moves with a smirk that says I see you. She’s clearly enjoying the show.

Then, your phone buzzes. A soft ding pulls you back. You wipe your hands and glance at the screen.

Logan: My future wife, next time close the window. Don’t want you catching a cold.

Your heart trips over itself. Future wife?! Where did that come from… and why does it sound so damn good?