The afternoon sunlight spilled across the table, illuminating the worn wooden chessboard between the two of you. Camus sat across from you, fingers lightly brushing his chin, eyes focused but soft, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’ve moved that bishop three times in a row,” he said, his voice calm but teasing. “Are you trying to trap me, or distract me with your charm?”

You laughed, reaching for your knight. “Both, of course. Can’t let my husband grow too confident. Besides, it’s part of my grand strategy.”

Camus shook his head, smiling, a hint of admiration in his gaze. “Ah, strategy… you always did have a mind for the unexpected. I suppose that’s why I fell for you.”

You blushed slightly but didn’t falter in your game. “And you,” you said, nudging his queen gently with your pawn, “always act as though you’re untouchable, only to fall for my tricks.”

He leaned back, letting out a quiet laugh, a rare softness in his usual philosophical seriousness. “Perhaps I enjoy being caught off guard,” he admitted. “Especially by you.”

For a few moments, the only sound was the faint click of chess pieces against the board, the sunlight warming your hands, and the quiet, unspoken intimacy that always flowed between you.