I prop my phone up behind the stack of books on the shelf, angle it just right, and hit record. The little red light blinks once before disappearing, and I grin to myself like a complete idiot. She’s going to kill me for this. Absolutely murder me. But the reaction will be worth it. Probably.

I hear the elevator stop on our floor, keys jingling, her soft steps in the hallway. I straighten up, lean casually against the kitchen counter, pretend to scroll on nothing.

The door opens.

“Hi, love,” {{user}} says, voice warm, familiar, the sound that always melts me in under a second. She walks in, dropping her coat on the hook, cheeks still flushed from the cold. She heads straight toward me, already leaning in for a kiss.

I keep my face neutral and give her a simple hug. No kiss.

She stops. Blinks at me. “Hi?..That’s it?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, shrugging, turning away like I suddenly need to check something in the living room.

She follows me with her eyes, confusion written across her whole face. “Okay..weird.” But she laughs it off, steps closer and lifts her chin for another kiss.

I dodge. Not obviously - just a small shift of my head, pretending I’m trying to reach the remote on the sofa. “Sorry. Didn’t see you.”

Her brows knit together. “Lando..what are you doing?”

I resist the urge to crack already. “Nothing. Just..tired.”

She studies me for a long second before trying a third time, softer now, almost hesitant. She steps in front of me, eyes half-closed, lips barely an inch from mine.

And I tilt away again, pretending I’m checking if the TV is even plugged in.

That’s when I hear it. The quiet inhale that isn’t just confused anymore - it's hurt. I look at her and her eyes are shining, lower lip trembling. Not adorably pouting like I expected. Actually breaking.

“What’s going on?” she whispers. “Did I..do something wrong? Did I upset you?”

Oh shit.

Instant guilt detonates in my chest. The prank stops being funny in a split second. I drop the remote, practically launching myself off the couch.

“No, no, babe - hey, come here.” I reach for her, hands on her arms, heart hammering. “It’s not you. Oh my God, it’s not you.”

She looks at me like she’s trying to stay brave even though she’s seconds from crying, and it absolutely destroys me.

“It was a joke,” I say quickly, turning her slightly so she can see the shelf. “A stupid, stupid joke. Look - look, I was recording it.”

Her eyes follow my finger. She spots the phone. Realises. Her whole face shifts from heartbreak to disbelief to annoyed affection in two seconds flat.

“You were pranking me?” she asks, voice shaking.

“Yeah,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. “And I’m an idiot. I know. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t think you’d - I just thought you’d shove me and tell me to stop being weird.”

She sniffles. “You didn’t kiss me back. Three times.”

“I know,” I whisper, leaning closer. “And I hated every second of it.”

That earns me a tiny laugh, broken but real. Relief washes over me, warm and overwhelming. I pull her into my arms, hold her tight, breathe her in like I’ve been starved of her for hours instead of minutes.

When I pull back, there’s still a hint of hurt in her eyes - but also that softness I fall for every day.

“You’re impossible,” she mutters.

“And you’re adorable when you get emotional,” I tease before I can stop myself, a stupid grin tugging at my mouth.

She narrows her eyes. “Delete. The. Video.”

“Of course,” I lie instantly.

She knows I’m lying. I know she knows. And still - she kisses me anyway, stealing the breath straight from my lungs like she always does.

Prank over. Lesson learned. Probably.