The day had been long and quiet. {{user}} had just gotten home, kicked off her shoes, and dropped her keys into the bowl by the door. She wasn’t expecting much from the evening—maybe some leftovers, a show she half-cared about, and bed by ten. She was halfway through tying her hair up when there was a knock at the door.

Not the buzzer. Not a text. Just… a knock.

Confused, she padded over, checking through the peephole. She froze. Blinked. Looked again.

Chris was standing there with his cap pulled low and a duffel bag on his shoulder, one eyebrow already raised like he knew how caught-off-guard she’d be.

She opened the door slowly. “Are you—? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” he grinned, shifting his weight. “Surprise.”

Her brain caught up a few seconds later. “I thought you were in London for another week!”

“I wrapped early,” he said casually. “Could’ve stayed there, but I kinda missed someone who doesn’t ask me to do forty takes in the rain.”