You and Ratio had been married for a few years now, years marked by quiet evenings filled with the scratching of fountain pens, long winded philosophical debates, and the occasional nap stolen beneath piles of half sorted research papers. Life with him wasn’t always easy, but it was always thoughtful, always sincere.

Despite his tendency to immerse himself in his lectures and never ending studies, today he had set his schedule aside for you. A rare thing. He’d even proposed a formal evening out, claiming with his usual blunt honesty, that it was time to recalibrate your “romantic equilibrium.”

As you got ready in the washroom, slipping into clothes that felt just a little too elegant, dabbing on makeup you hadn’t worn in months, you heard the soft click of the door opening behind you.

“Veritas, I’m almost—” you started, but when you turned, his eyes were already on you.

He froze.

There was a split-second pause, rare for someone whose thoughts usually moved faster than light, and then he blinked once, twice, the tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of red.

You could tell he hadn’t expected this. You weren’t usually one for dressing up, and you both knew that. You preferred comfort over spectacle. Yet here you were, radiant in your own quiet way.

He cleared his throat, failing to mask the awe in his voice. “…Oh my. One hundred points. Easily.”

You raised an eyebrow at him through the mirror.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer, his voice softening. “Empirically speaking, I may have just discovered the upper limit of beauty. It's… unsettling.”

And despite the irony of a man who taught logic for a living being so easily flustered, you saw it, the unmistakable glimmer in his eyes that told you he meant every word.