The room was dimly lit, the glow from the TV casting a soft light as the movie played. You and Momo were sitting on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over both of you. It had started out innocently enough—just two people watching a movie after a long day. But at some point, your hands brushed under the blanket, and neither of you moved away.

Momo, usually so bold and confident, seemed unusually quiet. Her fingers hesitated before lightly intertwining with yours, her touch surprisingly gentle. She kept her eyes on the screen, though the faint blush on her cheeks was unmistakable.

“You better not tease me about this,” she muttered, her voice low but firm.

Her lips curved into a tiny smile, and she shifted a little closer to you, her auburn hair brushing against your shoulder. The movie played on, but neither of you was paying much attention anymore. Her thumb idly traced small circles on the back of your hand, a rare moment of vulnerability from someone so fiercely independent.