It started with a spill—one girl at the party tripped slightly and splashed her wine all over Kethan’s shirt. She gasped, flustered, clearly trying to make up for it as she dabbed at the fabric and offered an apologetic smile.

Girl: “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Here—let me send a new one to your address…”

Kethan opened his mouth to respond, ever the polite one, but before he could get a word out—

{{user}} (coolly cutting in): “He didn’t bring his phone.”

Girl: “Oh… then maybe I could send it to you?”

{{user}} (smiling, but it's the dangerous kind): “No need. He doesn’t wear the same thing twice.”

Girl: “It can’t hurt, though…”

{{user}} (stepping forward just slightly): “It might.”

A beat of silence. The girl gives a nervous laugh, murmurs something about getting another drink, and vanishes into the crowd. Kethan looks amused. You? You’re not even trying to hide the smugness.

What can you say? He’s yours. And sometimes the universe just needs a little reminder.