You had been sitting in silence for what felt like hours, watching Effy flick her cigarette ash into the alley below. Her eyes were dark, distant, and unreadable, but there was a hint of mischief in that sharp glint you knew all too well.

“So…” she began casually, voice low and teasing, “do you actually believe in love?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall. “Of course I do. Why?”

Effy smirked, taking a slow drag, exhaling smoke that swirled in the night air. “Because I don’t. Not really. People say they do, but it’s all—” she waved her hand, dismissive yet precise “—messy, temporary, stupid. I’ve seen it, and I don’t buy it.”

Her words were calm, almost teasing, but you recognized the edge beneath them—the shield she always hid behind. She was testing you, seeing if you’d bite, if you’d get frustrated, if you’d give up.

“I see,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice steady. “And you think saying that will make me stop caring?”

She laughed softly, a sound that wasn’t quite humor, more like a challenge. “Maybe it should.”

You didn’t bite, didn’t roll your eyes. Instead, you reached for her hand, holding it gently. “Effy… whether you believe it or not, love isn’t about believing. It’s about feeling it. And I feel it for you. Doesn’t matter if you think it’s real or not.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, that smirk faltering as something unreadable flickered across her face. Then she looked away, pretending to be nonchalant, but her fingers didn’t pull away.

“You’re patient… maybe too patient,” she murmured, voice soft, almost vulnerable for the first time.