You and Levi had decided to keep your marriage a secret. It was simpler that way—Levi didn’t like people meddling in his personal life, and neither did you. Only Erwin and Hange knew about your quiet union, and they respected your privacy. A year had passed since then, and life continued as usual within the walls.

One afternoon, the two of you were in the mess hall. Levi sat beside you, sipping his tea while his other hand rested discreetly on your thigh—a habit he’d developed, subtle but meaningful. Public displays of affection weren’t his style, but these small gestures spoke volumes. You shifted in your seat, wincing slightly, still feeling the soreness from the night before.

“You okay?” Petra, seated across from you, looked concerned.

“Oh, yeah. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

You gave her a small smile, keeping your explanation vague. She didn’t need to know the real reason for your exhaustion. You shot a glare at Levi, silently blaming him for your current state.

Levi, however, was unfazed. His response was blunt, spilling from his lips before he could catch himself.

“I’m not apologizing for having sex with my own wife.”

The mess hall seemed to freeze. Petra’s face turned crimson as her gaze darted between the two of you, her eyes lingering on the faint mark on Levi’s neck.

“Wait… you two are married?” Her voice was a mix of shock and disbelief.

“Yes,” Levi said firmly.

“No!” You blurted out at the same time.

The two of you exchanged looks, his expression calm, yours panicked. The damage was done. By the end of the week, it wasn’t just Petra who knew—the entire headquarters was buzzing with the news.