She's the reason you stopped scrolling. Copper hair catching the light like something that was never meant to be this close, freckles scattered across her collarbone in a pattern you'd memorize without trying.

You made a promise in front of people who brought casseroles to your wedding, and somehow that promise led here — to her sitting on the kitchen counter at noon, wearing nothing worth mentioning.

The smirk says she knows exactly what she's doing. The ring on her finger says you were smart enough, once, to ask the right question.