Marissa never thought she'd say it, but: she missed being fake-married.
Because ever since the kiss, things had changed.
Not in the dramatic, thunderstorm-in-a-rom-com way. More like a slow boil—tiny glances that lingered too long, hands brushing when they reached for the same mug, that moment they both pretended not to remember the kiss while also absolutely remembering the kiss.
Also: Felix had started cooking breakfast.
Badly.
"Is this... toast?" Marissa asked one morning, squinting at what looked like a burnt love letter from the underworld.
"It's artisanally flame-kissed sourdough," Felix said, flipping it with tongs and catching it on a plate. "Served with enchanted butter. It whispers compliments as it melts."
The butter did whisper. Mostly things like, "You're radiant" and "Those pajamas are doing the most."
Marissa rolled her eyes, but she ate it.
Felix sat across from her, trying not to grin.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you for casting a sentience spell on our coffeemaker."
"I made Beanyoncé more emotionally available."
"She asked me to define our relationship."
"Progress!"
---
They were halfway through breakfast when the contract floated over, humming a cheerful melody.
Felix's smile faded. "Uh-oh."
The contract unfurled dramatically and projected glowing letters:
> NOTICE: Routine Evaluation Initiated. Magical Auditor Scheduled. One Hour Countdown.
Marissa spat out her coffee.
"WHAT?"
"Okay, okay," Felix said, flailing for the contract. "It's probably a small check-in. Very chill. Like an enchanted pop quiz."
Marissa stood up, eyes wide. "I haven't even filed the emotional transparency forms! Our Relationship Magic Index hasn't been updated! We never did the synchronized dance!"
"You said we could skip that!"
"I WAS LYING!"
Felix blinked. "You lie?"
"WHEN UNDER MAGICAL DURESS, YES."
---
They had sixty minutes to become the kind of couple that magical auditors adored.
So naturally, they started fake-arguing about whether or not to hide the wedding scrapbook Felix had accidentally made.
"It's weird if we display it," Marissa said.
"It's weird if we don't. What if the auditor thinks we're emotionally repressed?"
"We are emotionally repressed!"
Felix clutched the book to his chest. "I made glitter annotations."
"Oh for the love of—fine. Leave it out."
They re-staged the apartment, dimmed the lights, and force-fed Barbara three cups of espresso to keep her from blurting out, "This marriage is 43% chaos and 89% spicy confusion!"
Beanyoncé played romantic jazz. The couch fluffed itself. The walls glowed a soft rose-gold.
Marissa dabbed perfume behind her ears.
Felix brushed his hair.
They stood in front of the door in silence.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No," she said. "Let's do it anyway."
---
The auditor arrived precisely on time, floating six inches off the ground with a clipboard, monocle, and zero tolerance for nonsense.
"I am Reginald P. Hufflegrim," he announced, stepping into the room. "Licensed Senior Marital Auditor, bonded by oath, council, and romantic karma."
Felix bowed. "Welcome to our humble—"
"I require no greetings. Only documentation. And vibes."
Marissa handed him a binder. "All our paperwork is in there. Certified, notarized, color-coded by affection type."
Reginald sniffed. "Color-coding is suspicious. Indicates overcompensation."
Felix raised a hand. "May I interest you in a cookie?"
"Bribery?"
"Chocolate chip."
Reginald took one.
He floated around the apartment, inspecting everything. He hummed, muttered, and occasionally asked questions like, "How often do you share vulnerable emotions?" and "When was the last time you argued about curtains?"
Then he reached the bookshelf.
And stopped.
He pointed. "What is this?"
Felix turned pale. "That's... my romantic poetry journal."
Marissa stared at him. "You have a what now?"
"I was working through my feelings."
Reginald opened it.
And read aloud.
> "Her smile slices through logic like a legal loophole wrapped in starlight—"
"OKAY," Felix shouted, trying to grab it. "We don't need to—"
> "Her voice is a gavel in my ribcage. I object! I object! Oh no—I don't."
Marissa snorted.
Reginald frowned. "Hmm. Sincere. Embarrassingly so. Very well."
He floated back to the center of the room.
"Final question," he said. "Demonstrate affection."
Felix blinked. "Like—right now?"
"Spontaneous gestures are most reliable."
Marissa glanced at Felix.
He looked nervous.
So she stepped forward and kissed him.
Soft. Real. A little terrifying.
When she pulled back, Reginald adjusted his monocle.
"Well," he muttered, making a final scribble. "That was alarmingly authentic."
Then he snapped the clipboard closed.
"You pass."
---
As soon as the door closed, Marissa collapsed onto the couch.
Felix stood frozen, touching his lips like they were new.
"Was that a panic kiss?" he asked.
"Do you want it to be?"
"I want it to be a practice kiss."
She stared at him.
He cleared his throat. "You know. Practice for future... high-stress audits."
"Right."
He sat beside her.
The room was quiet.
Then she said, "It wasn't a panic kiss."
He turned.
"It wasn't?"
"I just didn't want to lie."
Felix smiled, slow and quiet.
"Me neither."
They didn't kiss again that night.
But they did fall asleep holding hands on the couch, surrounded by glowing furniture, humming butter, and a contract that purred in satisfaction.
---
Three days later, trouble arrived in the form of Felix's ex-girlfriend.
Her name was Nerissa Flamestrike, which was already a red flag.
She walked into Marissa's office wearing a magical trench coat, heels made of dragon bone, and an expression that said, I eat confidence for breakfast and spit out glitter.
"Hello, Marissa," she said. "Lovely office."
Marissa stood. "You must be... the ex."
Nerissa smiled. "Fiancée, technically. Former."
"And what brings you here? Business? Arson? Passive-aggressive spell dueling?"
"I'm here to warn you."
Marissa raised an eyebrow.
Nerissa leaned closer. "Felix's family... won't let you win. They don't believe in love outside the bloodline. Especially not with—" she gestured vaguely at Marissa's pantsuit—"mortal constraints."
"I've met the family," Marissa said coolly. "They've already tried to hex me into a lobster."
Nerissa's smile widened. "That was my idea."
Marissa blinked. "Okay. Now I'm impressed."
"I'm just saying—if this is real, protect it. If it's not, end it before someone gets erased from the historical timeline."
Then she vanished in a puff of pink smoke that smelled faintly of danger and roses.
---
Marissa told Felix everything.
He sighed. "Nerissa has... strong opinions."
"She tried to warn me. Like she was the last sane ex before the curse hits."
Felix rubbed the back of his neck. "Technically, she might be."
Marissa crossed her arms. "What aren't you telling me?"
Felix hesitated.
Then said, "If our marriage is ruled invalid... my magic could be revoked."
Marissa's heart stopped.
"WHAT?"
"Remember how I needed proof of 'stabilizing partnership' to get my license reinstated?"
"Yes."
"If it's ruled that our marriage was fake... I lose everything."
The silence between them stretched long.
Finally, Marissa whispered, "Then we'd better make it real."
Felix looked up.
"I mean—" she cleared her throat. "We need to make them believe. Convincingly."
"Right. Convincingly."
Neither of them moved.
Outside, thunder rumbled.
Inside, their hearts did the same.