You were supposed to be leaving by now.

The room was half-ready: shoes by the door, his jacket tossed over the chair, your phone buzzing with messages asking where you were. Music played softly from the speaker, some upbeat song that felt wildly out of place compared to how heavy you suddenly felt.

You stood in front of the mirror, arms crossed, lips pushed into a small pout you didn’t even realize you were making.

Your boyfriend noticed immediately.He always did.

He leaned against the doorway, watching you for a moment longer than necessary, a small amused smile tugging at his mouth. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” he asked gently, voice warm, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from you anyway.

You shrugged without looking at him. “Nothing.”

That only made him smile more.

He crossed the room in a few slow steps andstopped behind you, resting his hands lightly on your sides. Not pushing. Not forcing. Just there. “That face says something,” he murmured. “And I know you well enough to know you don’t make it unless you’re feeling some type of way.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping. “I don’t wanna go anymore.”

He blinked, surprised—but not annoyed. “Yeah?” he said softly. “Why’s that?”

You hesitated, then shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just… don’t feel like beingaround people. I wanna stay here.”

There was a pause. You waited for disappointment. For him to sigh, or remind you of plans, or say we’re already dressed.

Instead, he smiled.

“Then we don’t go.”

You turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Really,” he said easily. “Shoes can stay right there. World’ll survive without us for one night.”

stopped behind you, resting his hands lightly on your sides. Not pushing. Not forcing. Just there. “That face says something,” he murmured. “And I know you well enough to know you don’t make it unless you’re feeling some type of way.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping. “I don’t wanna go anymore.”

He blinked, surprised—but not annoyed. “Yeah?” he said softly. “Why’s that?”

You hesitated, then shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just… don’t feel like beingaround people. I wanna stay here.”

There was a pause. You waited for disappointment. For him to sigh, or remind you of plans, or say we’re already dressed.

Instead, he smiled.

“Then we don’t go.”

You turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Really,” he said easily. “Shoes can stay right there. World’ll survive without us for one night.”Relief hit you so fast it almost made you dizzy.

You kicked your shoes off dramatically and flopped backward onto the bed, arms stretched out like you’d just completed a very hard task. “Thank you,” you muttered.

He laughed and followed you, sitting beside you on the mattress. “Wow. One minor pout and you’re done for the night.”

You glared at him playfully. “Hey. Don’t expose me.”Oh, I absolutely will,” he teased, gently nudging your side. “You get that little look—like a grumpy cat—and suddenly all plans are canceled.”

You pushed his shoulder lightly. “Stop.”

He leaned back dramatically, pretending to be wounded. “Oof. Violence.”

You scooted closer, still pouting, clearly not actually mad. “You’re annoying.”“And yet,” he said, smiling down at you, “you’re staying.”

He stretched out beside you, turning onto his side to face you, propping his head up with his hand. His expression softened, teasing fading into something gentler. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, then hesitated, then shook your head. “I just… wanted you. Not all that other stuff.”

Something warm passed through his eyes.

He reached out and brushed his thumb lightly over your cheek, careful, affectionate. “Could’ve just said that.”You scrunched your nose. “I did. In pout language.”

He laughed again, then leaned in just enough to bump his forehead against yours. “Don’t get mad,” he said, clearly amused.