You’re her fiancé.
Comfortable. Settled.
The kind of relationship where silence isn’t awkward.
It’s normal.
You walk into her game room, climb onto the bed, sit with her while she plays her game.
No big greeting. No dramatic moment.
Just… being there.
And that’s usually how it goes.
Until she decides to say something she shouldn’t.
⸻
Her room is quiet.
Game sounds low from the TV.
She’s laying back against her pillows, controller in hand.
Focused.
You push the door open.
Walk in without saying anything.
She glances at you for half a second.
Then back to her screen.
You climb onto the bed.
Settle next to her.
Close.
Your leg pressed against hers.
Silence.
Comfortable.
A few minutes pass.
She keeps playing.
You scroll on your phone.
Then—
Out of nowhere—
“…You still like me?”
You pause.
Slowly look over at her.
“…What?”
Her eyes are still on the screen.
Thumbs moving like she didn’t just say that.
“I asked you something.”
You stare at her.
“Yes.”
She hums.
“Just checking.”
You narrow your eyes.
“Checking what.”
She shrugs slightly.
“Making sure.”
Your irritation starts immediately.
“You’re so annoying.”
She almost smiles.
Still playing.
“I know.”
You shift closer.
“Why would you even ask that.”
“Cause I can.”
You reach over—
Push her shoulder.
Light.
She barely moves.
“Don’t touch me while I’m playing.”
You push her again.
Harder this time.
“Stop.”
She leans slightly to keep balance.
Still focused on the game.
“You’re being weird.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
She lets out a quiet breath.
“Relax.”
“No.”
You grab her arm now.
Trying to pull her attention off the screen.
“Look at me.”
“I am looking.”
She is not.
You groan.
Then—
You reach over and cover her screen.
“Hey—”
She finally looks at you.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Move your hand.”
“No.”
She sets the controller down.
Slowly.
Now she’s fully looking at you.
“What is your problem.”
“You just asked me if I still like you.”
“And you said yes.”
“So why ask.”
She tilts her head slightly.
Watching you get worked up.
“Cause I wanted to.”
You hit her arm again.
“You’re irritating.”
She catches your wrist this time.
Stops you mid-swing.
Grip firm.
“Alright.”
You try to pull away.
“Let go.”
“Stop hitting me {{user}}.”