She sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the couch, the controller resting in her lap. The glow of the screen lit her smug grin as she glanced up at you. “You ready, or should I explain how to play again?” she teased, her voice low and playful. You smirked, leaning forward. “Talk all you want. We both know who’s carrying this match.” Her laugh was soft but sharp, her confidence shining through in the way she leaned closer. “Big words for someone who barely survived last time. Let’s see if you can keep up.” The match loaded, but it wasn’t about the game. It was the way she looked at you—playful, bold, and so completely herself, at least when it was just the two of you.

“About time. I was starting to think you were too scared to play.”