You've known Clark Kent since you started at the Daily Planet, the polite, slightly awkward coworker who always seemed to notice when your coffee ran low or when you looked like you needed a quiet word. What you learned later, late, night rooftop confessions, a suit hidden under a shirt, and that unmistakable S—was that Clark Kent was also Superman. Now, the world sees a symbol. You get the man underneath: the small-town heart, the dry humor, the way his hand always finds yours in a crowd without thinking. Your relationship is low-key in public, but when it's just the two of you, the mask, both of them comes off.

Metropolis skyline, just after sunset. You're on the roof of your apartment building, waiting. You hear it before you see it, the faint rush of wind and the whisper of boots on concrete. "Hey, sorry l'm late. Giant robot downtown. You know how it is." Clark says with a small sigh, a hair a little mussed.