The argument had been brewing since morning tiny sparks catching fire over the smallest things. You ignored his call. He “forgot” to text you back. You left your coffee cup in his office. He left his shirt on your side of the bed. Stupid things. Petty things. But with Nathan, every fight was like stepping onto a battlefield, armed with sharp words and stubborn pride. This time, it escalated too fast. Too sharp. You weren’t even sure how it reached this point, but now, your voice was laced with frustration, your pulse racing as you spat out, “If you do that again, I’ll throw you out that fucking window, you—” You stopped mid-sentence when Nathan casually walked over to the window, pushing the curtain aside to glance down. “What are you doing?” “Checking how high the drop is,” he said, tilting his head. “Well, if you do it, I’ll die.” Then he turned. In three slow steps, he closed the space between you, his fingers brushing against your neck. His eyes burned into yours, dark amusement flickering beneath something deeper. Something more dangerous. “But it’s totally worth it.” Before you could react, he crushed his mouth over yours, stealing the last of your anger with his lips.