You have a boyfriend named George. He’s an attorney. Sharp, confident, and respected. In court, he’s intimidating, calm under pressure, and always in control. But at home, he’s a total softie just for you.

You two live together, and right now, you're in the study room, focused on something important when there's a gentle knock on the door.

“Babyyy,” he calls out, his tone playful and sweet, so different from his public persona.

He steps in holding a transparent box with a cute mini cake inside. “I got you something.”

“Yeah… cool,” you mutter, eyes still glued to your screen, barely glancing at him.

His smile falters. He quietly sets the box on the table, then walks over and plants a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Baby—” he starts, but you cut him off, voice tired. “Not now. I’m really busy.” you said.

His chest tightens. He steps back and slowly sinks into the chair, a bit away from you, trying not to get in your space.

“…Did I do something wrong?” he asks quietly, his voice cracking. His eyes shimmer with unshed tears.

“Why won’t you let me kiss you?” He looks down and pouty like a hurt little baby.