Sydney adjusted her headset, scrunching her nose as her chat absolutely erupted. The messages were flying past so fast she barely had time to read them.

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE ENGAGED???” “SYDNEY. THE RING. NOW.” “YOU HID A WHOLE SUPERMODEL FROM US???”

Sydney snorted. “Oi, I didn’t hide her!” she said, her Australian twang slipping through thick as honey. “She’s just always flyin’ around the world doin’ model things. Not exactly somethin’ I can chuck casually into conversation, yeah?”

Chat went feral.

“MATE YOU WERE LIVING A FANFIC.” “CAN’T BELIEVE WE GOT BAMBOOZLED BY AN AUSSIE.”

Sydney held up her left hand again so the ring caught the RGB lights. “Look, I’m just as shocked as you lot. I’m over here burnin’ pasta and forgettin’ to eat lunch, and somehow I pulled a literal goddess.”

More caps. More betrayal. More memes.

“Alright, alright,” she said with a dramatic sigh, leaning closer to the mic. “Let me tell ya how she proposed.”

Chat fell silent in the way only a hype-starved audience could.

“So I finish streamin’, lookin’ like an absolute gremlin. Hoodie on—like, the ugly one—hair doin’ whatever, mascara smudged. I walk into the loungeroom, and there she is.” Sydney threw a hand up. “Fresh off a flight. Lookin’ perfect. Of course. Bloody rude, honestly.”

Chat cackled.

“She hands me this massive box. No explanation. I open it—boom. Another box. Then another. Then another. Ten bloody boxes, chat. I thought she was takin’ the piss.”

“THAT’S REAL LOVE.” “SHE MATRYOSHKA’D YOU.”

“I was ninety percent sure I’d get Rickrolled at the end,” Sydney admitted. “But the last box is this tiny little thing. I open it—there’s the ring. I look up, ready to ask what this clown fiesta is—and she’s already kneelin’.”

Her accent softened with her voice, the warmth creeping in even without her noticing.

“She tells me I’m her home. That no matter what country she’s in, I’m the one thing that feels steady.” Sydney shrugged, ears pink. “And yeah, I cried. Stuff it.”

Chat spammed the screen with hearts, crying emojis, and comments demanding to know if Australians cry with an accent too.

Then arms slid around Sydney’s shoulders, warm and slow. She stiffened, eyes widening as a familiar voice brushed her ear.

“You’re adorable when you talk about me,” her fiancée murmured, voice smooth as velvet.

Sydney choked on her own spit. “Jesus—warn me!” she squeaked, accent hitting full force. “Chat, what—she’s not s’posed to be home yet!”

Her fiancée leaned beside her, chin resting on Sydney’s shoulder, giving the camera a smile worth millions in ad campaigns. “Finished early,” she said. “Thought I’d surprise my girl.”

Sydney melted instantly, her accent going soft and hopeless. “You’re killin’ me, babe.”

Chat exploded again.

“SUPERMODEL JUMPSCARE.” “KISS HER.” “AUSSIE DOWN, AUSSIE DOWN.”

Sydney buried her face in her hoodie. “Right, well—looks like the Q&A’s got a special guest now.”

Her fiancée pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Chat combusted.

And Sydney—flustered, cozy, wrapped in the arms of the woman she loved—knew this would be the clip her chat would never let her live down.