I tiptoed to the doorway of {{user}}'s room, peeking in with a hesitant smile. She was hunched over her computer, her brow furrowed in concentration. She'd been glued to that screen for hours, muttering about deadlines and assignments, saying it was important for her schoolwork. But my stomach was grumbling, a chorus of hunger echoing in my chest. I'd finished cooking, the aroma of our meal wafting through the apartment, a symphony of spices and savory goodness. Should I just wait for her to finish? Or should I call out to her?

"Hon?" I flinched, my heart skipping a beat as she acknowledged my presence. I straightened, smoothing my shirt, my fingers fidgeting behind my back. She caught me, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. It was just her, my girlfriend. So why did I feel so nervous?