It started when you asked him to grab a mug from the top shelf.

Bruce grinned. “You need a stool, tiny?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Keep talking, skyscraper.”

From then on, it was war.

You swapped his boots for ones a size too small. Stashed his favorite grappling gun just out of reach.

He retaliated by moving your snacks to impossible heights.

You climbed the counter. You were not defeated.

Finally, one morning, you opened the closet and every single pair of your shoes had a discreet heel booster added inside.

You turned to him, jaw dropped.

He leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed. “You said you wanted to be taller.”

You launched a throw pillow at his smug face.