POV: Alex Ren
I should've known peace wouldn't last.
Ava's voice echoed from the living room, full of exaggerated woe. "But Nai Nai, I was going to bake lemon tarts today!"
I didn't even have to look up from my laptop. She was pacing in socks, her hair in a loose braid that went down to her thighs, talking to her grandmother like the world was ending. It was always that dramatic with her.
Then again, she was wearing my hoodie again. So I couldn't complain too much.
"I already told his grandmother," I heard her say. "They want lots of pics. Lots."
I sighed and closed my laptop. "No."
"You didn't even hear the question!"
"I did. The answer's still no."
She looked at me with those big, sparkly eyes full of betrayal. "But I made you chocolate pancakes yesterday. And drew a smiley face in whipped cream. And you ate it."
Damn it.
"Fine," I muttered. "But I swear, if they ask for heart filters again, I'm disappearing."
Her face lit up like a thousand-watt bulb. "You love me," she chirped.
I didn't answer. She'd just say it again anyway.
---
She changed clothes in under five minutes and came out looking like a damn ad for springtime—blue sweater, cream skirt, and ribbon in her hair.
I wanted to cancel everything.
Instead, I let her drag me to the car, listening to her chatter on about photo angles and which café had the cutest chairs. When we reached the shopping district, she clung to my arm and waved at strangers like we were filming a romantic drama.
"I feel like a golden retriever on a leash," I muttered.
"You're my husband," she said sweetly. "You're legally required to suffer."
She spent fifteen minutes in the perfume section, spraying every scent into the air like it was her personal cloud. I stood by the door, wondering how long it would take me to fake food poisoning.
We finally sat down at a café, and I was halfway through pretending to read the menu when I heard a voice I didn't like.
"Ava? Ava Chen?"
My eyes snapped up.
Some guy—tall, sun-kissed, wearing that fake laid-back law student charm—walked straight over to my wife.
"You look amazing," he said, grinning at her like she hung the damn stars.
Ava turned, and for one second, I saw her genuinely excited. "Luca?"
Luca. Right. I'd heard that name before. She mentioned him once or twice.
And I hated him instantly.
She was awkwardly trying to explain who I was, but Luca didn't seem to care. He was too busy acting like a golden retriever discovering a new chew toy.
"She's basically the sunshine of our law batch," he said. "If you're not smiling when she walks in, you probably have no soul."
Seriously?
I stood up. Slowly. "She's busy," I said coldly. "We have shopping to finish. Come on, Mrs. Ren."
Luca blinked like someone had just slapped him with a textbook. "Wait—did he say—?"
"BYE LUCA!" Ava yelped, dragging me out of the café so fast I barely had time to shoot the guy one last glare.
---
The car was quiet.
She kept sneaking glances at me like she was trying not to laugh.
"You okay?" she asked finally, voice all sing-song.
I stared out the window. "Peachy."
She leaned in closer. "You're not… jealous, are you?"
"Jealous of a dude who smells like orange soda and has no idea you're married? No."
She giggled. Loudly.
But when I looked down… she was still holding my hand.
And I didn't let go.