I knew something was off the second we walked out of the ballroom, but {{user}} only stared out the car window, arms folded like she was holding herself together. Six years together, and I could usually read her like a book. Tonight? She was in another language.

The evening had started fine. She looked stunning—so stunning I barely let go of her hand all night. And maybe that was selfish, but I liked her close. My world felt steadier that way.

Then Ami appeared. My old high-school crush.

She recognized me first. “Riki? Wow—you look exactly the same. Just taller.” I laughed. {{user}} smiled politely beside me, but I didn’t think much of it. Ami talked about school, work, the usual. I didn’t notice {{user}} shifting closer, didn’t notice the way her hand looped tighter around my arm… or the way Ami’s fingers brushed my sleeve.

But {{user}} noticed. Oh, she definitely noticed.

When she tugged lightly at my blazer, I leaned down. “You want to go?” Her eyes were soft, but something simmering hid behind them. “Yeah,” she whispered.

The drive home was silent. Not angry silent—worse. Thoughtful. Wounded.

Inside our apartment, she kicked off her heels and turned away as if heading straight for the bedroom. Instinct stopped me; my hand closed gently around her wrist.

“{{user}},” I murmured, tugging her back to face me. “Did I… do something?”

Her eyes avoided mine. I tipped her chin up with a finger.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

A long pause. Then, quietly, “Ami.”

And there it was. The puzzle solved.

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. Not mocking, just surprised. “Baby… are you jealous?”

Her cheeks flushed instantly. She tried to pull away. “I’m not— I just… she kept touching you, and you didn’t even notice, and—”

I caught both her hands in mine, stepping closer until her forehead rested on my shoulder.

“I didn’t notice because I was too busy looking at you,” I said honestly. “I brought you tonight because you’re the only person I want on my arm. Always.”

She mumbled into my chest, “It was stupid.”

“No,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head. “It means you care. And for the record—” I leaned back so she could see my grin, “—you’re way prettier when you’re jealous.”

She swatted my arm, but she was smiling now, the storm cleared. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her fully against me.

“Six years, {{user}},” I murmured. “And you still don’t see—there’s no one I could ever want but you.”

She softened, finally melting into me, and I held her just a little tighter. Because jealousy or not, she was my home. Always had been. Always would be.