It was the 28th of November, the same date that marked five years of marriage between you and Simon “Ghost” Riley. The apartment was warm with Christmas lights, soft music, and the smell of cinnamon candles.

You were standing on a small stool, hanging a silver ornament on the tree. Your outfit —meant to be cute and festive—had turned out a bit more revealing than you realized. To you, it was nothing dramatic. But to Simon?

He froze in the doorway.

His mask was off since they were home, leaving his expression completely visible. His eyes widened the moment he saw you, then narrowed in that familiar overprotective, worried, and annoyed-all-at-once way he had.

“Love,” he said slowly, voice low but steady, “what… exactly are you wearing?”

You blinked at him, confused. “It’s just a Christmas outfit. It’s cute!”

“Cute?” Simon stepped closer, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to calm himself. “Everyone can see inside our living room from the windows. What if the postman comes early? Or the neighbors?” He gestured vaguely toward the outside world, as if the entire population might suddenly appear.

You laughed. “Simon, nobody is looking into our windows.”

He didn’t laugh back. His ears were slightly red.

“You’re my wife,” he muttered, pulling his jacket off and gently settling it over her shoulders. “And it’s our anniversary. So the only one who gets to look at you dressed like this… is me.”

You stood there wrapped in his jacket, staring up at him with raised brows. “You’re dramatic.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, finally cracking a small, embarrassed smile. “But I don’t like sharing.”