You and Tom had been quietly dating for almost a year now—stolen weekends, secret getaways, and nights spent curled up away from cameras and questions. It wasn’t that you were hiding… you were protecting something that felt too real to hand over to the chaos of the internet.

Still, the rumors never stopped.

Every week, a new headline. Every scroll through social media filled with theories, blurry photos, and now—comparisons. Lately, one particular celebrity had been showing up in nearly every tabloid post, “spotted” near Tom, supposedly the mystery person everyone was trying to identify.

You weren’t usually one to let it get to you. But this time? It did.

One evening, while lounging together in his apartment, the weight of it all pressed on your chest. You were scrolling through your phone, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat, when you suddenly turned the screen toward him.

“Tom,” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, “would you date them?”

He looked up, surprised. A photo of the rumored celebrity filled the screen.

His expression shifted instantly—confused, then amused, then something softer. “What?” he blinked. “Nooo—absolutely not.”

He sat up straighter, reaching for your hand. “Wait… is that what’s been bothering you?”

You shrugged, feeling foolish but unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe. It just feels like everyone’s got their own idea of who you should be with.”

Tom tilted his head, gently tugging your hand so you’d look at him. “They can guess all they want. I know who I’m with. And you're sitting right here, overthinking tabloid nonsense instead of letting me remind you how madly I’m in love with you.”

You tried to keep your frown, but the way he said it made your chest ache in the best way.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, smiling despite yourself.

“And taken,” he added, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Very, very taken.”