We sat there for a moment, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between us. The lights from the event hall spilled through the windshield — warm, golden, and far too festive for how unenthusiastic I felt.

Then I sighed and turned to her. "Do we really have to do this?" I asked, my tone half plea, half resignation, as I shifted my gaze toward Val.

She was already unbuckling her seatbelt, her fingers brushing against the door handle with that unmistakable certainty that told me I'd already lost.

"We're already here, husband," she said with that teasing lilt in her voice that carried both mischief and pride. "Besides, I haven't had the chance to show off how unfairly handsome you are. I know they see you at work, but seeing you with me? Now that's a whole different experience."

I exhaled through a quiet laugh, shaking my head. Who's supposed to be showing off who again?

Because if anyone was turning heads tonight, it'd be her — Celestia Valentina Moreau, walking chaos in heels and confidence personified. She didn't even have to try; all it took was that small, unbothered smile and the way her eyes lingered on me like I was something worth keeping.

Not that I was complaining.

The sound of soft Christmas music floated through the air as we stepped out, the night cold but not sharp enough to bite.

Her hand found my arm, the same way it always did, like it belonged there.

We hadn't even crossed the entrance when Derrick spotted us. He was standing with a few people I'd seen around the office, the kind you greet at the elevator but never actually talk to. And yet, the moment he caught sight of us, he waved with the enthusiasm of a man trying to signal a plane for landing.

"Hey! Kai! Over here!"

Val's face brightened. Of course it did. She loved this kind of energy — lively and loud. Before I could even decide if I wanted to follow Derrick's wave, she was already steering me toward him, her grip firm around my arm like I'd disappear if she let go.

"Damn, man," Derrick said as we reached him. "I didn't even know Val was back."

He turned to her with a grin. "And now it all makes sense why he's here. You're the only person who could've dragged this man out of the house."

Val laughed softly, that effortless, disarming kind of laugh that drew people in before they even realized it. "I prefer to think of it as encouraging him to socialize," she said.

Derrick's girlfriend, a woman with warm brown eyes and a stylish short haircut, smiled beside him. "Hi, I'm Beatrice," she said, offering her hand.

Val shook it with a polite, genuine smile. "Celestia," she said, before adding smoothly, "Kai's wife." She lifted her hand slightly, flashing the ring she'd been showing off since university like it was proof of divine law.

Everyone at my workplace already thought she was my wife. Everyone except Tasha, though they weren't entirely wrong. She might not have the title on paper, but she was still the woman I intended to spend the rest of my life with.

Beatrice smiled back, clearly charmed, while Derrick blinked. "Wait—Celestia? I thought it was Val?"

Val giggled softly, eyes flicking toward me. "It's actually Celestia Valentina Moreau. Only Kai calls me Val."

Derrick let out a low whistle. "Oof. My bad, I had no idea."

Celestia's lips curved into that mischievous grin. "It's fine. It just means he'll have to find a new name to call me."

I gave Derrick a look, deadpan. "Thanks, buddy."

We all laughed at that. Even Beatrice chuckled as Derrick hands raised in mock surrender, but I could tell from the glint in Celestia's eyes that she wasn't entirely joking.

We chatted for a few more minutes before the crowd began to shift toward the center of the hall, where tables were arranged neatly — four seats per table, golden candles flickering in glass holders. A few people had already started eating, others standing near the drinks section with casual chatter filling the air.

Val and I found a table near one of the side windows, far enough from the speakers that conversation wouldn't require yelling.

She slipped into her chair gracefully, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back to survey the decor — garlands, frosted glass ornaments, silver runners. "Hmm," she said thoughtfully, "they did a surprisingly good job with the lighting. It's warm, festive… balanced."

I glanced at her. "Balanced?"

She nodded like she was grading an art exhibit. "Yes. The tones don't clash. Whoever organized this has an eye for visual rhythm. I appreciate that."

I was about to make a joke about her secretly rating parties for a living when her gaze shifted, not at me this time, but toward the entrance.

I followed her line of sight.

Tasha.

She was wearing a deep emerald dress that looked deliberately chosen for the occasion, elegant but understated. Her arm was looped through that of a man I'd never seen before, probably her plus one. Their steps were slow, practiced even, and the faint smile on her lips was one I'd seen often in the office — the polite kind she wore for formal events, the one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Val's voice broke my train of thought.

For some reason I didn't even want to think about, Tasha started walking toward our table, her hand still looped around the arm of her date.

"Hi," she greeted, stopping right beside us with a smile that looked too polite to be real. "Are these seats taken?"

For a split second, I thought Val would ignore her — or worse, say something teasing. But instead, she smiled sweetly and replied before I could even think of an answer.

> "No, they're not. You can sit."

Tasha hesitated briefly before nodding. "Thanks," she said, taking the seat across from us with her date.

Val's smile only brightened, that subtle, knowing gleam in her eyes, the kind that made me want to sigh and brace myself at the same time.

I didn't need to look at her to know what she was thinking. She was calm, poised, but there was that tiny glint of playful challenge beneath the surface.

The kind that usually meant trouble.

Her fingers brushed against my arm under the table, just lightly, like a reminder. A quiet declaration that I was hers, that she was perfectly aware of the unspoken tension that came with the new company.

I exhaled softly, leaning back in my chair, the murmur of conversation filling the air around us. The faint scent of cinnamon and mulled wine drifted from the buffet section, Christmas music playing gently in the background.

And as Tasha laughed politely at something her date whispered, I glanced at Val again, the small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, the glimmer in her eyes that said she was enjoying this far too much.

Yeah.

Somehow, tonight was going to be anything but quiet.

---

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