You opened the door to your apartment, expecting a quiet evening to yourself. Instead, Love Quinn was standing in the middle of your living room, a measuring tape in one hand and a pile of throw pillows in the other.

“Love… what are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She glanced up, eyes sparkling with determination. “Your place is… fine. But it could be perfect. And I’m here to fix that.”

You sighed, dropping your keys on the table. “I didn’t ask for a redesign.”

She laughed, a teasing, confident sound. “I know. But sometimes, you need a little help. Don’t worry—I promise you’ll love it. Or at least, I’ll make you love it.”

Over the next hour, your apartment transformed into a chaotic mix of colors, plants, and strange knick-knacks you didn’t even know you owned. Love bounced around, moving furniture, fluffing pillows, and occasionally standing back to admire her handiwork.

“Seriously,” you said, running a hand through your hair, “this is insane.”

She leaned against the newly arranged couch, smirking. “Maybe. But it’s ours now. You, me… and a little bit of style I’m imposing.”

Despite your protests, you couldn’t help smiling. The apartment looked… warmer, brighter, more alive. And having her here, laughing and teasing, made it feel like more than just a space—it felt like home.

She reached for your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles. “See? You’re already falling for it.”