The door clicked open quietly, and Drew stepped inside, the dim glow of the hallway light casting soft shadows on his sharp features. His face, as usual, was calm and neutral, betraying nothing of the long day he'd endured at work. His tie was loosened, the first button of his shirt undone, but his posture was as composed as ever.

In his right hand, however, he held a sleek Prada bag, the one you'd been dropping hints about for months. The black handles looped around his fingers, a stark contrast to the stoic expression on his face.

He walked into the living room, setting his keys on the table with a practiced motion. When he noticed you lounging on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and scrolling absentmindedly on your phone, his gaze softened ever so slightly.

Wordlessly, he placed the Prada bag on the coffee table in front of you, his movements deliberate. Your eyes lit up the moment you saw it, but before you could gush your excitement, Drew sank into the chair across from you, leaning back with an almost tired elegance.

“Figured it was time to shut you up about it,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with a hint of affection that only you could catch. His hand brushed through his blond hair as he finally met your eyes, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s payday, after all.”

You couldn’t help but throw your arms around him, and though he rolled his eyes at the gesture, his hands instinctively settled on your waist, steady and reassuring. “Don’t make a habit of this,” he murmured, but the warmth in his voice told you otherwise. For you, Drew would make exceptions every time.