Maxwell King felt like he’d shot himself in the foot. If he’d known it would turn out like this, he never would have been so stubborn about his choices.

The home theater was impressive—a sprawling, custom-built space. The massive sofa took up the center of the room, facing a wall-to-ceiling screen. Hidden speakers tucked into every corner provided a 360-degree, immersive soundscape. Above, the ceiling was a masterclass in lighting design: a deep, midnight-blue expanse punctured by thousands of tiny fiber-optic LEDs, mimicking a vast, shimmering galaxy.

Arianna Stone was curled into the leather cushions, looking languid and content. The seat was reclined perfectly, a small side table holding an assortment of snacks, iced lattes, and two plates of fresh fruit that Maxwell had picked up earlier. Everything was perfect—except, perhaps, for the way their shoulders were pressed tightly against each other.

The sofa was clearly large enough, yet somehow, they had ended up crammed together. Every time she moved, their skin brushed—a friction that sent a jolt of heat through her, radiating from the contact point where his arm met hers.

The movie was an achingly pure romance. It followed a story of serendipitous encounters, butterflies, and the pain of missing a connection, only to reunite years later in a foreign city and build a life together with the blessing of their friends and family. As the credits rolled, Arianna sat frozen, lost in the narrative. She hadn't seen something so unpretentiously sweet in ages. No toxic drama, no manipulative rivals, no real-world baggage. Just two people falling in love like everyone else, treating their partner as the center of their universe.

It was exactly as Miranda Green had said: "That movie makes me feel like my partner is right here beside me, just around the corner."

She had been so absorbed in the film that the snacks and fruit remained untouched. Coming back to reality, Arianna picked up a ripe, crimson strawberry and held it out toward Maxwell.

"You have the first one," Maxwell said.

The emphasis on "first" wasn't lost on her. Arianna popped the strawberry into her own mouth, then leaned over and held another one out to his lips, her expression playful. "Say ah."

Maxwell watched her with a gentle, lingering gaze. He leaned in, taking the fruit from her fingers with his lips. His mouth brushed against her pale skin, a light, grazing contact that felt like a sudden electric current shooting straight to her heart.

The distance between them vanished.

"Is it good?" Arianna asked, her voice slightly breathless as she tried to bridge the awkward tension.

Maxwell didn't break eye contact. "Good."

"Is it sweet?"

"Sweet."

"Oh. Do you want another—"

He didn't give her the chance to finish. Maxwell leaned forward, catching her lips in a kiss. He was the same Maxwell she knew, yet his touch was different now—gentle as he parted her lips, his breath mingling with hers, possessive and unwilling to let her go. The sound of their rhythmic, heavy breathing filled the quiet, darkened theater, thickening the air with palpable tension.

The temperature in the room seemed to spike. Arianna surrendered to the kiss, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks, until she heard him whisper against her lips, "Arianna, your strawberry tastes sweeter than mine."

Her ears turned a deep, burning crimson. Before she could regain her composure, he tilted his head and kissed her again, deeper this time. Under the simulated starlight, Maxwell cradled her face with both hands, his focus entirely on her. She kept her eyes shut, lost in the heat of his touch, the lingering flavor of the fruit dissolving on their tongues as he claimed her completely.

In her dazed state, she didn't realize when her hand had been guided to his waist. He pressed her palm firmly against his midsection, right over the firm, lean muscle of his abdomen.

Arianna jolted back, startled. Her eyes flew open, wide and glossy with surprise, her voice softening into a bewildered, delicate hum. "What are you doing?"

Maxwell didn't let her pull away, holding her hand firmly against him. "Whose is better? Mine or the lead actor's?"

Arianna blinked, her brain struggling to catch up. "Who?"

"Julian," Maxwell rasped, his voice dark and tight. "Do you think his abs are better than mine?"

Arianna: "..."

Julian was the lead in the movie they had just finished. What on earth did he have to do with this? A moment later, it clicked. She curled her eyes into crescents, looking up to catch his expression. "Oh, so you aren't a fan of that actor, then?"

"Why would I be?" Maxwell replied, his tone stiff and defensive.

"Then why did you agree to watch this movie?"

Maxwell stayed silent for a few seconds. Why? Because he’d been too proud to admit he was jealous. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his voice muffled and grumpy. "I'm jealous. And I’m terrified that you’ll think I’m being petty."

"Jealous?" Arianna asked, stunned. "Because of those photo stills online?"

"Yes."

"But I didn't even click on them! Those were just thumbnails!"

"Thumbnails count too."

Arianna stared at him, truly shocked. She couldn't believe a man could be jealous to this degree. But somehow, it was impossibly endearing. She couldn't help but tease him. "I see hundreds of people every day when I go out. Should I be worried about you keeping me locked away in a gilded cage?"

"Can I?" Maxwell asked, looking at her with complete, terrifying sincerity. "I've actually thought about it, but I was afraid you wouldn't be on board."

The smile froze on Arianna’s face. She stammered, "I—I definitely wouldn't be!"

"Then how about a larger villa? Or a private estate?"

Arianna: "..."

Seeing the genuine panic on her face as she looked like she was ready to make a run for it, Maxwell finally laughed, pulling her into his arms. "You’re such a dork. I’m joking."

"Really?" Arianna asked, still half-suspicious.

"My wife is brilliant. The world deserves to see her."

This time, Arianna was the one who initiated the kiss. Maxwell sat as still as a statue, his entire body rigid as she leaned in, her touch awkward and unpracticed as she licked his lower lip, then tentatively, carefully, explored further. Her heart felt as though it were being wrapped in something soft and heavy, pulling her deeper into him.

Her hand was still resting against his lean abdomen, and taking advantage of the moment, she gave it a bold, experimental squeeze.

Maxwell’s muscles instantly coiled beneath her palm, his gaze darkening to an intense, dangerous shade. Arianna didn't notice, too wrapped up in the intimacy of the moment. She climbed into his lap, winding her arms around his neck, and surrendered to the kiss.

Under the vast, artificial galaxy, the whispered promises between lovers melted into one long, soft, lingering kiss. In the midst of the hazy, romantic fog, Maxwell heard her whisper, "I love you, Maxwell. I’ll only ever love you."

Maxwell pulled her closer, his response both a vow and a promise. "I feel the same."

—

"Since you don't like that movie," Arianna whispered, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, "should we pick something else?"

He curled his lip, his expression dangerous and pleased. "Is my wife going to make it up to me?"

Arianna nodded earnestly. "Yes."

Maxwell leaned in, his nose brushing hers as he murmured something intimate and suggestive. "Could you make it up to me in a different way?"

"Like what?"

Maxwell didn't answer. A moment later, he asked again, his tone leaving absolutely no room for misinterpretation: "Can I, my dear?"

Arianna: "............"