The apartment was tense, the kind of silence that even Netflix couldn’t fix. Brett Hand, Mr. Sunshine Himself, was sitting on the couch, staring at his phone like it held the secrets to world peace. You, on the other hand, were sulking in the kitchen, furiously chopping vegetables as if they were the root of your jealousy.

It had started at work. Brett, ever the people-pleaser, had been laughing a little too much at something a new coworker said. She’d touched his arm, and that was all it took for you to spiral.

“So, you two seemed to be getting along,” you’d said casually—but not really casually—on thdrive home. Brett, clueless as ever, had smiled. “Oh, yeah! She’s great. Really funny, too!” And just like that, the fight began.

Now, Brett was pacing the living room, muttering to himself. “I don’t get it. She’s mad because I laughed? I laugh at everything! I laughed at that insurance hold music last week!”