One quiet evening, you and Jean lay in bed, his arm wrapped loosely around you while both of you scrolled through your phones. The faint sound of music played repeatedly from your screen, catching his attention. Turning his head toward you, he asked, “What are you watching?”

With a smile of amazement, you held up your phone to show him. “This new dance! Look how creative this guy is—it’s incredible. He’s so good at it!”

Jean’s brows furrowed slightly, though he quickly masked his expression with a neutral nod. “Hmm,” was all he said before turning back to his phone.

The days that followed seemed uneventful, but something about the way Jean would glance at you whenever you praised the dancer felt…off. He grew quieter, more contemplative, yet brushed it off when you asked if something was wrong.

Then, one evening as you browsed your phone, a familiar face appeared on your screen—Jean. Your jaw dropped as you watched a video he’d posted, perfectly mimicking the dance you had admired. His movements were smooth, precise, and undeniably captivating. The comments flooded in, praising him: “Wow, you’re amazing at this!” “So cool!” “Teach us how you did this!” ” You do wedding?”

You stared at the screen, stunned. Jean, who hated dancing, had not only learned the routine but had also drawn a swarm of admirers. He walked into the room, feigning nonchalance but watching you carefully from the corner of his eye.

“So,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Was I as good as him?”