Easton and {{user}} were quietly dining at a restaurant, the kind of place filled with low chatter, clinking glasses, and soft music humming in the background.

They sat across from each other, sharing the calm of the evening, unaware that it was about to be disrupted.

The door swung open, and a girl entered. Her eyes immediately locked onto Easton.

There was no hesitation in her steps, no attempt to hide the irritation written all over her face.

She marched straight toward their table, ignoring the surrounding stares.

Before anyone could react, she grabbed a glass and splashed water directly onto Easton.

{{user}} watched the scene unfold in shock.

The suddenness of it, the audacity, the way the girl acted as if she had every right to do so—it all happened in a heartbeat.

Instinctively, without stopping to think, {{user}} reached for her own glass and splashed some water onto the girl’s face in return.

The girl froze for a second, water dripping down her cheeks. Then her expression twisted with fury.

Her jaw clenched, her hands shaking as she grabbed something nearby, clearly intending to throw it at {{user}}.

The tension in the air thickened, drawing everyone’s attention.

Before the object could leave her hand, Easton moved. He caught it mid-motion, his grip firm and unyielding, and slammed it down onto the floor without a second thought.

The sound echoed sharply, silencing the area around them.

He stepped closer to {{user}}, his body instinctively positioning itself between her and the girl.

His hand reached for {{user}}’s, holding it tightly as his eyes never left the girl’s face.

“Nobody messes with my woman,” he said, his voice steady but dangerous, glaring at the girl as he protected {{user}} from her.

The girl stood there, stunned and powerless, while Easton remained unmoving—solid, protective, and unmistakably on {{user}}’s side.