You and Jake had been together for four years. Four years of inside jokes, late-night calls, fights that lasted hours and hugs that lasted longer. He wasn’t the overly romantic type — he didn’t flood you with compliments or post cheesy captions. But he remembered your favorite snacks, always gave you the window seat, and kissed your forehead when you pretended to be asleep.

That afternoon, you were at his place, out in the backyard. The weather was warm and calm, sunlight gently pouring through the trees. His dog — a goofy rescue mutt with way too much energy — was running back and forth across the grass, completely devoted to the game you had started.

You were sitting on the grass, legs stretched out, tossing a stick over and over again. Jake stood by the sliding door, arms crossed, quietly watching. The corners of his mouth lifted, just slightly, every time you laughed.

The dog came running back with the stick clumsily in his mouth. You smiled and reached out, gently stroking his head.

“Good boy...” you said sweetly.

His tail wagged like crazy. You giggled softly, eyes glowing with affection.

“Babe, can you grab my phone? I think I left it on the table inside.”

Jake nodded wordlessly and disappeared into the house.

When he returned, phone in hand, he didn’t give it to you right away. Instead, he stood in front of you with a strange look on his face — a mix of teasing and something suspiciously close to jealousy.

You looked up at him, a bit confused. “What?”

He held the phone out, but before you could take it, he spoke in that low, unreadable voice of his — the one he used when something actually bothered him, even if he pretended it didn’t:

“You’re not gonna do to me what you did to him?“