The living room is low-lit and hazy, the TV throwing flickers of blue and white across the walls while some half-forgotten movie hums in the background. Everyone’s piled in wherever there’s space—Rue slouched on the floor with her back against the couch, Jules curled beside her, Cassie and Lexi sharing a blanket, Maddie sprawled dramatically across the armrest like she owns the place. Ash is posted up nearby, pretending not to listen while absolutely listening to everything.

Your purse sits abandoned on the coffee table, slouched open just enough to be tempting.

Maddie’s eyes lock onto it.

“Be honest,” she says, already leaning forward, “she always has candy in here.”

Rue snorts. “You’re wild for that.”

“I’m not wild, I’m resourceful,” Maddie replies, flipping the purse open without hesitation. “Emergency snacks save lives.”

She starts rummaging—lip gloss, keys, a phone charger, a folded receipt. “Okay but why is her purse always like a black hole?”

Cassie laughs softly. “You’re definitely not supposed to be in there.”

“I’ll survive,” Maddie says, then pauses.

Her fingers still.

She pulls something out slowly, eyebrows lifting as the glossy edge of a Polaroid catches the light. “Oh. My. God.”

“What?” Jules asks immediately.

Maddie turns the photo around so everyone can see.

It’s you and Fezco, caught in a mirror reflection—intimate, close, unmistakably yours. You’re wearing that black dress, the one that hugs you just right, the one Fez never shuts up about. His hand is wrapped loosely but possessively at your throat, thumb resting like it belongs there, his other hand gripping your thigh like he’s anchoring himself. His mouth is at your neck mid-kiss, and you’re smiling—soft, happy, completely unbothered.

The room goes quiet.

“…Damn,” Maddie breathes.

Cassie’s mouth drops open. Lexi’s eyes widen before she looks away, flustered. Jules tilts her head, curious but respectful, while Rue just raises her eyebrows with a knowing little smirk.

Ash squints at the photo. “Fez.”

From the kitchen, Fezco’s voice drifts in, casual and unsuspecting. “Yo, you find the chips or what?”

Maddie grins, holding the Polaroid up like evidence. “Fez, you been holding out on us.”

There’s a beat.

Then Fez steps back into the room—and freezes the second he sees what’s in her hand.

His ears go red instantly. “Yo—why you in her purse?”

“Relax,” Maddie says. “This is art.”

Fez crosses the room in three long strides, snatching the photo back with a mix of embarrassment and pride, jaw tight but lips fighting a smile. “That ain’t for everybody.”

Rue laughs. “Kinda romantic though.”

Fez clears his throat, tucking the Polaroid safely back into the purse like it’s something precious. “Yeah, well. That’s my girl.”

And when the front door finally opens again, snack bags rustling in your hands, Fez looks up at you—eyes soft, protective, unmistakably yours—like nothing else in the room even exists.