⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆〜 The studio had that careful kind of warmth, the kind built by soft lighting and well-placed furniture, designed to make everything feel natural—even when nothing really was. Cameras hovered like quiet observers, and the faint hum of production filled the space, but none of it mattered. Not really. Not when you were sitting across from him, fingers idly tracing the rim of your coffee cup, your foot hooked lazily around his under the table.

Dominic had done press a hundred times before, slipped in and out of interviews like it was second nature. But this felt different. The way you looked at him across the table, the way your laughter softened the edges of every question—it made it harder to keep up the usual walls. The words 10 QUESTIONS, 5 SKIPS glowed behind you like a countdown.

At first, it was easy. You traded playful answers, poked fun at each other, slipped in half-truths with grins that said, we’re only giving them what we want to give. Then, the weightier ones.

“Do you think you’ll get married?”

The room went still for just a second too long. He felt the unspoken weight of it settle between you, not just the question itself, but what it would mean for everyone watching. The theories, the headlines, the clipped-out soundbites that would be dissected for weeks. But then you smirked, hit the SKIP button without hesitation, and the moment passed.

Then came the last questions, only three more. No skips left.

“What’s the best thing about being together?”

Dominic leaned back, exhaling like he had the answer before the words even reached him. He could’ve said something charming, something easy. But he just looked at you, eyes steady, voice softer than it had been all interview.

“She gets it.”

A small pause. A glance exchanged like an unspoken secret. The personal fan question he had to ask you. He picked it up, let his thumb linger over the words, then tilted his head slightly as he read it aloud.

“When did you know you loved me?”

And just like that, the cameras had their moment.