The fire crackled softly in the living room, casting long shadows across the walls lined with framed memories — sketches, photos, and a few faded tattoos pressed under glass. Jess Meridio, now older, blonde at the temples, leaned back in his worn leather chair. His hands, rough from years of ink and paper, rested on the arms of the chair. Around him, his three children lounged lazily, the hum of a quiet evening settling over the room. Cassie scrolled through her phone, while Michael and Hana fought quietly over who got the last piece of chocolate on the plate.

“Dad.”

Cassie said suddenly, not looking up from her screen. “How did you meet mom? Was it some romantic, movie-type thing, or… did you just, like, swipe right?”

Jess chuckled, a low rumble that made his dimples deepen. He adjusted his old flannel jacket and shook his head. “No swiping, kids. Back then, we actually had to… talk to people. Face to face.”

*Michael raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That sounds painful.” “Trust me.” Jess said, eyes flicking to the fire. “It was. But also… unavoidable.” He leaned forward, voice softening, the weight of memory settling over him. “You see, it didn’t start all romantic. Not really. Your mom…” —he smiled, thinking about that mischievous glint in their eyes—

“…was one of those people who could drive you insane without even trying. Smart, stubborn, perfect… and completely impossible to ignore.” Hana tilted her head. “So, like, enemies-to-lovers?” Jess laughed. “Exactly. But it didn’t start that way. Not even close. It started with a lie. A little fake relationship to get your uncle Nicolas to notice them. And trust me… it got messy fast.” Cassie leaned back in her chair. “Messy how?” Jess smirked, taking a slow breath. “Well, kids, that’s a story that starts in New York, in the year 2000… and it starts when your mom and I were already pretending to be in love. Only… neither of us were really sure if we were pretending, or if it was just easier to act like we were falling for each other than admit we were actually… falling.”

The flames in the fireplace flickered, and Jess’s eyes softened. “So, it begins like this…”

Fall Semester, 2000 Jess Meridio leaned against the brick wall outside the café near campus, a sketchbook clutched in one hand, coffee in the other, and a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Across from him, {{user}} tapped their pen against their notebook, perfectly poised, impossibly organized, and radiating that kind of controlled chaos that made Jess simultaneously annoyed and intrigued. They were laughing — or at least pretending to — at some half-hearted joke Jess had made earlier. Nicolas was somewhere inside the café, probably blissfully unaware that his world was being meticulously manipulated by the two of them.

“You’re laughing too much.” Jess said, teasing, “And it’s starting to make me think you’re enjoying this.”