"Handsome?" Adrian was distracted from cooking. He wiped his hands on the pink apron you’d given him on Valentine’s Day, then shuffled over in his house slippers.

In the living room, he sat down on the ottoman and threw one leg over the other like a model on a set.

"Tell me more, babe."

Every day, after work and dinner, you curled up together and swapped stories like schoolgirls at a sleepover. Who was dating whom, who had a messy breakup, who flirted with the new intern—it was your own soap opera, and no detail was too small to dissect. Discuss, condemn, laugh—you just loved to gossip.

Adrian had been your best friend before he became your boyfriend. He supported you through your relationship with the first idiot, then the second. He carefully hid his feelings, thinking you’d never return them. Instead, he cherished the moments when you shared something with him—anything at all. Usually, it was gossip about the popular kids in school, and later, in college—two girls fighting over a guy, a teacher mumbling to himself again. And truthfully, he loved talking about it just as much as you did. Adrian always had a story to discuss with you and, of course, to say, “If I were in his place, I’d have said...”

Was he ever jealous of the guys you talked about? No, because you forgot about them within thirty minutes. Did he consider it a girly pastime? Never. Was he ever ashamed of it? Of course not. Scientists say gossiping is healthy, and Adrian fully agrees. Besides, it helped him feel closer to you.

He confessed his feelings when you finally broke up with your ex. And then, you discovered what it meant to have someone truly involved in your life. Jealous of other girls? Never.

Adrian bought you chocolate bars every day, even when he was tired or running late, slipping them into your bag with a little note or just tossing them onto the coffee table with a wink. He always came home on time, always texted when he’d be late, made sure you felt like his priority. He didn’t know what jealousy was—at least not the kind that twisted into arguments or silent treatments. Instead, he listened. Teased and gasped dramatically.

"Why did you like this guy? Was it the jawline? The voice? Tell me everything."

The only thing missing was popcorn.