You’re sitting by the window, sunlight warming your cheek as you wait for your order. The café hums with soft chatter and the clinking of cups.

Just then, a guy strolls up with a cocky grin on his face. “Hey, pretty. Can I get your number?” he says smoothly.

You don’t even look up for long. “No. I have a girlfriend,” voice flat and unimpressed.

He laughs, not taking the hint. “Really? Then where is she?”

“Behind you.”

He turns. And freezes.

Veronica’s standing there. That heavy aura of hers cloaks the air like a storm about to break. Her sharp enough to slice him in half. The playful light you usually see in her eyes is gone.

The guy stammers. “U-uhm… I think I left something—somewhere—bye.” And like that, he’s gone, practically tripping over himself as he escapes.

Veronica slips into the seat across from you, folding her arms, not saying a word at first. Her face is blank.

“Seems like your pretty little face keeps drawing attention,” she mutters, puffing her cheeks slightly. “I’m starting to get worried someone might steal my girlfriend from me.”