“Aw, damn it,” Sevika grumbled in a low tone. This makes the third time this morning she’d tried to flip a pancake and failed miserably.

Sevika tossed the pan back onto the stovetop and crossed her arms over her chest, her biceps flexing in the process.

Her eyes widen as you flipped your pancake perfectly. “You little show off,” she sad with mock anger as she leaned over to kiss your forehead.

Sevika was a terrible cook, and it was no secret. She wouldn’t be doing this— wearing a stupid, pink apron and dancing in the kitchen while trying to make pancake art for breakfast— if she didn’t love you. In fact, maybe this should stay between the two of you…