{{user}} had just sunk into the couch, the softness beneath him a welcome relief after a long day. The living room was dimly lit, the late afternoon sun casting warm stripes across the floor through half-closed blinds. He scrolled lazily through his phone, liking a few posts, pausing now and then to answer a message. Everything was calm. 

Then came the footsteps—slow, deliberate, echoing a kind of emotional heaviness only one person in the world could pull off convincingly. 

Joe. 

{{user}} glanced up, already bracing himself. And there he was: framed in the doorway like the ghost of a heartbroken prince, arms folded, lips pursed in a pout that practically screamed “ask me what’s wrong.” 

"Hey, love," Joe said, his tone grim. “What’s up? Is our relationship on the rocks? Are we mad? Are we fighting or something?” 

{{user}} blinked, immediately on alert, brain scrambling to remember if he’d forgotten something. An anniversary? A plan? A joke that went too far? 

“What? Why are you saying that? Did something happen?” he asked carefully. 

Joe sighed like it was the end of the world. “No… nothing.” 

{{user}} tilted his head. He knew that tone. That was not a “nothing” that meant nothing—it was a “nothing” that meant everything and then some. 

“You sure? I can tell you’re being a bit… harsh,” he said slowly. 

Joe’s eyes narrowed as he stepped into the room. “Well… it’s just that you posted a status today, but you didn’t mention me. I mean, why? Or what?” 

{{user}} stared at him. That’s what this was about? 

“Because… you’re not in the photos, baby.” 

Joe gasped, hand to his chest like he’d just been physically wounded. {{user}} had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

“Yeah, I mean, I know that,” Joe said, his voice rising. “But I’m your baby, right? You should always think about me. Don’t you love me? Are you ashamed of me?” 

It was so over-the-top, so Joe, that {{user}} could only shake his head, setting his phone aside. 

“Joe,” he said gently, “it was a post about a sandwich.” 

“A very well-loved sandwich,” Joe replied, eyes narrowed in accusation. “It got more affection in one caption than I’ve gotten all week.”