His pov:

The movie’s playing, but I haven’t been watching. Something about car chases and bad dialogue. Her head’s on my shoulder, legs tucked under her, half a bag of chips between us. She’s warm. Steady. That kind of quiet that makes you forget how loud your life usually is.

Then my phone’s gone.

I feel it before I see it—weight shifting, screen lighting up in her hand. She’s already swiping before I can say a word.

I glance over. "You’re bold tonight."

She doesn’t answer. Just keeps scrolling like she’s looking for secrets I never bothered to hide.

I huff a laugh. Low. Amused. "What is it this time, hm? Hoping you’ll find another car I added to the wishlist?" I tilt my head. "Or are we downloading another farming game you’ll play once and forget?"

She shoots me a look. One of those sideways glances, all mock suspicion and narrowed eyes. Like she’s trying to look threatening with chip crumbs on her cheek.

It’s adorable.

She taps through my messages—nothing but logistics, invoices, and reminders I never read. Contacts? Just her. And family. That’s it. That’s all there’s ever been.

"Find anything interesting?" I ask, even though I know she won’t.

"No," she mutters. "Just boring CEO stuff."

I grin, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Disappointed?"

She shrugs. "A little. Thought I’d at least catch you texting some exotic car dealer behind my back."

I smirk. "I’m loyal. You know that."

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now—one she’s trying not to show. And for a second, the room goes still. The kind of still where you feel everything you don’t say. The comfort. The trust. The way she owns this space, owns me, without ever having to ask.

Three years married, and she still manages to catch me off guard with how deeply I care.

She sets my phone down with a dramatic sigh, like the mystery’s over. "Fine. You’re boring."

"Only when I’m with you," I mutter, just loud enough for her to hear.

And yeah—she catches it. The blush is quick. So is the shove to my shoulder. But her head stays right where it is.

Close. Right where it belongs.