That evening, the restaurant was calm, its dim lights reflecting softly against the glass walls. You sat across from Rome, your boyfriend. Nights like this were usually simple—dinner together, light conversation, and Rome always covering the bill without a second thought. It had become second nature to him, a quiet expression of his protective nature toward you.

He looked neat that night in a crisp navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with tailored white trousers. Casual, yet polished—enough to make him stand out even in a crowded room. But tonight, it wasn’t his appearance that was different. It was his actions.

When the bill arrived, Rome slid the paper toward you with casual ease, as if wordlessly telling you to pay this time. You froze for a moment before picking it up. Your eyes skimmed the numbers briefly before setting it back on the table.

“If you’re a broke boy, just say so,” you muttered with a faint smile that quickly faded. Your tone was languid, laced with irritation you didn’t bother to hide. You slipped a €100 bill on top of the check, then returned your attention to your phone, masking the creeping frustration.

Rome swallowed hard. His hand moved to his pocket, pulling out a slim, well-kept leather wallet. “Let me just—” he murmured, sliding out a debit card. Awkwardly, he tapped it against the small payment terminal at the side of the table. The soft beep confirmed the transaction.

Yet instead of leaving your money where it was, Rome picked up the €100 bill you had laid down. “Thank you,” he said lightly, as though nothing were amiss.

You stared at him in disbelief, eyes widening. Before the bill could disappear into his wallet, your hand darted forward. You snatched the wallet from his grip. “Are you kidding me?” you snapped, your voice sharp and raised slightly.

Rome looked flustered, but not quick enough to stop you. As you opened the wallet, several bills slipped out, scattering across the table and onto the floor. You froze as you realized what you were seeing—one, two, three…more than €800 neatly stacked inside, crisp as though freshly withdrawn from the bank.

Your gaze shot back to Rome, a mix of shock and anger burning in your eyes. “You…” The words caught in your throat, torn between demanding an explanation and unleashing your fury.

Rome only shrugged faintly, his expression softening into a calmness that infuriated you further. “Well,” he said casually, “it’s for you—since you were so generous in paying for the food.”

The air between you went still, heavy. You searched his face, desperate to read whether he was joking or deadly serious. His eyes, once nervous, now carried a strange steadiness—as if he truly believed this was enough to pacify you.