I’m still half lost in the data sheet when I hear her laugh again - that soft, breathy sound she always makes when she’s trying too hard. Mia, one of our junior engineers. Nice enough, good at her job..and absolutely incapable of being subtle.

She leans in again to point at a line of telemetry I already know by heart, the scent of her perfume drifting over my shoulder. Her hand rest on my arm a second too long. Again.

“See this? You were perfect through Turn 11 today,” she says, lowering her voice way too much. “Honestly, Carlos, sometimes you really don’t need the car. It’s like you could just fly through the corners.”

I move slightly to the side, but she follows. “Thanks. Yeah. Good teamwork.”

She giggles - that flirty, breathy sound - and I’m already internally bracing for the conversation I’ll need to have with {{user}} later. I’ve told her a dozen times she doesn’t need to worry. Told her Mia’s just dramatic. Told her I only have eyes for her. That it’s nothing. That I’m hers.

I’m about to step back when the sound of footsteps pulls my attention toward the entrance of the garage and {{user}} walks in.

Her steps echo down the hallway, and she has that look - the one that hits me like sunshine after a long day. But the moment her eyes land on Mia standing too close, touching my arm, smiling at me like I’m hers..everything inside {{user}} shifts. And I swear I can actually feel the temperature in the room drop.

“Carlos,” she says, her voice calm in a way that’s far more dangerous. “Ready to go?”

“{{user}}!” Mia chirps, way too bright. “Didn’t see you. I was just helping him with the data. He said without me he couldn’t make it through the day.” She smirks. “Didn’t you?”

My jaw drops. “I never said -”

{{user}} cuts in with a soft, humorless laugh. “Interesting. Because I can’t see how he would ever say that.” Her eyes dragging pointedly over the distance - or lack of distance - between me and Mia.

Mia laughs lightly. “He needs someone to go through the data with him. You know how complicated these systems are. Not everyone understands them.”

{{user}}’s eyes narrow. “I understand enough to see what’s going on.”

Oh shit.

I open my mouth but {{user}} raises her hand slightly, stopping me. She’s calm, but there’s fire under it - sharp, controlled, burning.

“I’m gonna make this really simple,” Liz says, turning to face Mia fully. “You need to give it up. I’ve had about enough of this. There is no way you could mistake him for your man. Are you insane?”

Mia blinks, confused and insulted at once. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m just doing my job.”

Liz steps closer, voice low, steady, lethal. “Then do your job without touching my boyfriend. Without flirting with him. Without acting like he’s yours.”

Mia scoffs. “I wasn’t -”

“You were,” Liz cuts in. “And if you think for even one second that he wants you, you’re delusional. He comes home to me. He wakes up with me. He tells me everything. He belongs with me, not you.”

My heartbeat slams against my ribs because hearing her say that — with that confidence, that certainty — hits me harder than I expect.

Mia’s face reddens. “You’re insecure. That’s not my problem.”

Liz lets out a small laugh, the kind that should terrify anyone with a functioning brain. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m not insecure. I’m informing you.” She tilts her head. “Because I can tell the real from the fake. And what we have? You can’t take. No matter how hard you try.”

I finally step forward, sliding my hand into {{user}}’s, grounding her - grounding myself. “We’re leaving.” I say softly.

{{user}} squeezes my hand once, not looking away from Mia. “Next time you want to flirt with someone,” she adds, “pick someone who’s actually available.”

Then she adds, with a final, devastating softness: “He belongs to me. Not you. The boy is mine.”

She turns and walks out with me. And damn..I’ve never loved her more.