He wasn’t sure what to expect when Maya tugged him by the hand like the world was ending. Turned out, the “emergency” was a candlelit dinner set up with juice boxes, macaroni in mismatched bowls, and more glitter hearts than should legally be allowed on a table.

And {{user}}—they were already seated, trying not to laugh, their expression the picture of amused disbelief.

Maya had declared it a “Parent-Only Romantic Date Night,” and marched off proudly with Eli, leaving the two of them alone.

Knox sat down slowly, taking it all in. The plastic forks. The paper menu with “I love you” written in pink crayon. The “fancy” playlist Maya had queued up on a Bluetooth speaker—Disney instrumentals, naturally.

His heart hurt a little in that good way.

“You know,” he murmured, glancing at {{user}} across the table, “I’ve taken a lot of hits in my life. But nothing knocks me out like her.”

He looked down at his plate. Maya had even tried to sprinkle herbs—probably parsley from the fridge—over the Kraft macaroni like a five-star chef.

“She did this just ‘cause she thinks we don’t get enough time together,” he said, voice softer now. “Guess she’s right.”

There was a warmth in the pit of his chest that had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the two tiny tornadoes they were raising. And the person sitting across from him—the only person he’d ever slow down for.

He reached out across the table, gently brushing {{user}}’s fingers with his. “We should probably tell her she out-romanced half the real restaurants in the city.”