The argument had been heated, words thrown like sharp daggers, and now the silence stretched thick between you two. You were in the kitchen, fixing a quick snack, trying to ignore the tension humming in the air.

Then you felt it.

A sudden shift behind you.

You turned your head just in time to see Nami plop down on her knees right behind you. No words, just the heavy thud of her landing on the floor.

Before you could ask what she was doing, you noticed a bright sticky note stuck to her cleavage, fluttering slightly with each subtle jiggle of her hips.

“Forgiveness sucks?”

Her eyes avoided yours, cheeks flushed but lips pressed tight. She wasn’t talking—not a word. But the way her hips moved, that teasing little bounce of her ass, was saying everything.

It was a silent, bold challenge.

She was mad, yes.

But she wanted you to forgive her.

And maybe, just maybe, she hoped you’d cave