Marissa was doing something she never did on a Monday morning: staring at her calendar, completely frozen.
There, marked in crimson ink she absolutely did not remember writing, were the words:
ANNIVERSARY (MAYBE).
She tilted her head. "Nope. That can't be right."
But the math checked out. One month ago, on a rainy Tuesday night that involved a miscast "broom-cleanse" spell, a wonky courthouse clerk, and the world's most distracted parrot witness—they had signed their magical marriage contract.
Felix poured sparkling water into fancy glasses with the same focus most people used for bomb disposal.
"Careful," he murmured. "Not too much fizz. Remember what happened last time."
Marissa raised an eyebrow. "You turned my book club into a foam rave."
"A very successful foam rave."
"You owe Clara a new bookcase."
Felix sat across from her. "But tonight? No explosions. No glitter. No interpretive food."
She took a bite.
Her fork paused midair.
"This... is actually good."
He beamed. "I YouTubed the entire process. Then burned down the first batch."
"You burned pasta?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
For a moment, they just ate. Quiet. Comfortable. Weirdly... warm.
Marissa glanced at him. "You've actually been trying."
"I always try. It's just—my success rate is tied directly to how little magic I use and how much you yell at me."
She snorted. "So yelling is your motivational fuel?"
"It's basically love in lawyer."
She hid a smile behind her glass. "Careful, I might start billing you for compliments."
---
After dinner, Felix brought out dessert: espresso crème brûlée with a top so perfectly torched Marissa actually said, "Whoa," before she could stop herself.
Then he did the unthinkable.
He turned serious.
"Marissa?"
She looked up.
"I know we're technically married by accident. And I know we're trying to fix that, legally. But this last month... you've made my life feel like it's something real. Like I could stay in one place. Like I don't have to set everything on fire to feel seen."
She blinked. Her heart fluttered in that obnoxious way again.
"I know we said we'd fix this," he continued. "But... what if we didn't rush to fix it? What if we just... kept going?"
Her stomach flipped.
Because somewhere between bathroom battles, magical espresso competitions, and passive-aggressive glitter ducks—she had started looking forward to coming home.
To him.
She stood up.
Walked over.
Looked him dead in the eyes.
And said, "That depends. Are you going to keep using all the hot water?"
Felix grinned. "Only if you keep stealing my socks."
"Fine," she said. "We'll... keep going."
"Yay! Wait—does that mean I can call you wifey?"
She grabbed the crème brûlée torch.
"Say that again and I'm flambéing your nostrils."
One month.
One full month of Felix-ness.
She stared at the note, chewing on her pen. "Do we even have an anniversary? Do magical accidents get anniversaries?"
Behind her, the coat closet sneezed. That was Felix's fault, obviously.
---
Meanwhile, Felix was in the living room, sitting cross-legged, deep in conversation with the espresso machine they won at the summit. Its name, apparently, was Beanyoncé.
"I'm telling you," Felix whispered, "I want to surprise her. Like, real human romance. Dinner. Candles. Maybe a magically reanimated jazz band."
Beanyoncé whirred thoughtfully. "Does she enjoy jazz?"
"She tolerates it. That's basically love."
Barbara, from her perch on the curtain rod, muttered, "Romance built on toleration. Classic."
"I've grown on her," Felix insisted. "Like a stubborn but charming rash."
Barbara blinked. "Have you considered flowers instead of infections as metaphors?"
Beanyoncé chimed in, "I can brew rose-infused espresso with a cinnamon kiss finish."
"That sounds like a dental procedure."
"Romantic dental procedure."
"Perfect."
---
At exactly 6:32 PM, Marissa returned home.
She opened the door to find complete darkness, except for a trail of glowing footprints made of sparkles leading to the kitchen.
"Oh no," she muttered. "He's doing something."
She followed the glitter like a grim detective on the trail of a glitter-based crime.
In the kitchen, she found—
Felix.
Wearing a blazer. And actual pants. No slippers. No wizard robes. And a slightly nervous smile.
"Happy... probably-not-actually-our-anniversary-but-technically-maybe-it-is day."
She blinked.
"What is this?"
"I made dinner. Real dinner. No spells. No sentient food. I triple-checked everything. Also, I wore pants. For you."
Marissa squinted at the table, which was set with candles, roses, and steaming plates of fettuccine alfredo.
"Is this poisoned?"
"Only with effort and feelings."
She stared at him.
Then sat down.
"I'll allow it. Temporarily."
"You YouTubed it?" Marissa repeated, chewing cautiously. "You? The man who once asked if pasta came from 'noodle trees?'"
Felix leaned back proudly. "Growth, my dear lawyer-wife. I also learned what a colander is. And I didn't try to use it as a hat this time."
Marissa sipped her sparkling water and muttered, "Progress. We love to see it."
They ate in surprisingly comfortable silence for several minutes, the only sounds the occasional hum of Beanyoncé warming espresso in the background and Barbara crunching noisily on what may or may not have been a scented candle.
Felix cleared his throat. "So, I was thinking."
Marissa put her fork down. "That's always dangerous."
"I was thinking..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, slightly singed at the corners. "...that maybe we could update the marriage agreement."
Her lawyer instincts activated instantly. "Update? Are you trying to sneak in a fireworks clause again?"
"No! I swear! It's nothing explosive. Just... additions."
He unfolded it and passed it across the table.
THE REVISED (OPTIONAL) ROOMMATE-MARRIAGE AGREEMENT v2.0
Clause 7A: "If either party finds the other 'moderately tolerable' for more than three consecutive days, celebratory waffles must be served. With toppings."
Clause 9B: "Weekly activities shall include at least one of the following: (a) staring contest, (b) absurd debate, (c) sarcastic compliment battle."
Clause 12: "Parties agree to attempt one (1) real date, preferably without accidental time travel, sentient beverages, or uninvited pixies."
Marissa read it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She didn't speak for a full thirty seconds. Felix started sweating.
Then, she picked up a pen and added her own clause.
Clause 13: "Marissa gets full veto power over any and all magical ideas involving fire, glitter, ducks, or live musical numbers in the bathroom."
She handed it back.
Felix blinked.
"You're... signing it?"
"I'm vetoing it. Then signing it."
Felix gave her a slow, stunned smile. "This is the most romantic legal exchange I've ever witnessed."
"Don't make it weird."
Beanyoncé dinged happily and brewed espresso in the shape of a heart.
Marissa pretended not to notice.
But her cheeks said otherwise.
---
Later that night, they sat on the couch — still not officially a couple, but not exactly not a couple either.
"So," Felix said, holding a mug of cinnamon-vanilla brew, "what do we call tonight?"
Marissa thought for a second. "A temporary truce. Brought on by pasta, paperwork, and the fact that you wore pants."
"High praise."
She smirked. "Don't let it go to your head."
Felix leaned back and nudged her shoulder gently. "Hey... thanks for humoring me."
Marissa nudged back. "Thanks for... not setting anything on fire."
He grinned. "That's how you know it's love."
She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling when she looked away.
The next morning started too peacefully.
Marissa should've known that meant something terrible was about to happen.
She was sipping her coffee (courtesy of Beanyoncé, who had grown quite fond of "adding emotional depth to espresso") when Felix came sliding into the kitchen wearing a bathrobe and panic.
"Emergency," he said.
She didn't look up. "Did the couch eat your pants again?"
"No. Worse."
He slapped a letter down on the table. Marissa eyed the envelope.
Handwritten. Sealed with wax. Smelled faintly of peppermint and panic.
"Let me guess," she said, picking it up. "Your parents."
"Worse."
Marissa opened it.
To Felix Evergreen and (unfortunately) his legally bound spouse,
You are hereby summoned to attend the upcoming Gathering of Families — a rare, mandatory event for all magically-affiliated clans to display, debate, and, let's be honest, defend their bloodlines.
Attendance is non-negotiable. Absence will result in magical sanctions and severe judgment from Aunt Petunia.
Bring a dish. And your dignity.
Regards,
The Evergreen Family Council (now with snacks!)
Marissa blinked slowly.
"Is this... is this a family reunion... with spells?"
Felix nodded grimly. "A magical family reunion. With potluck. And trials. Literal trials."
"Like, lawsuits?"
"Like obstacle courses of shame. Last time, my cousin exploded trying to roast a marshmallow."
Marissa stood up. "We need to talk about the 'magical' part of your life. I feel like I was not properly informed when I was accidentally married into a wizarding circus."
"It's not all circus. There's also folklore, trauma, and overly competitive charades."
She narrowed her eyes. "Do we have to go?"
Felix sighed. "If we don't show, it's basically admitting we're fake."
Marissa groaned. "Well. We are fake."
He looked at her.
She paused.
"Okay," she added softly, "maybe not entirely."
They stood there in the kitchen. Quiet. Too quiet.
Barbara squawked from the curtain rod, "BRING SNACKS OR FACE BANISHMENT!"
Felix winced. "She went last year."
---
The plan was simple.
Step 1: Show up.
Step 2: Survive.
Step 3: Leave without being hexed, humiliated, or turned into metaphorical toast.
They got as far as Step 1 before things went sideways.
---
The Evergreen estate was... overwhelming.
A sprawling manor floating above a cliffside waterfall, surrounded by glowing trees and emotionally needy gargoyles. The entrance hall had three staircases that led in completely different directions, one of which whispered "don't trust the cheese" every few seconds.
Marissa held tight to Felix's hand. "This place is unhinged."
"Technically, it's magically hinged. With flair."
A butler greeted them by bowing so low he may have dislocated something. "Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Evergreen. The family is... watching."
He said it like a threat.
They were barely through the foyer when someone screamed, "FELIX! YOU ABSURD BEAN!"
A woman with fire-orange curls and a wand strapped to her leg like a duelist tackled him into a hug.
"Hi, Cousin Tilda," he wheezed. "You're crushing my lungs."
Tilda turned to Marissa and gasped. "YOU'RE REAL?!"
"I... hope so?"
Felix cleared his throat. "Marissa, meet Tilda. Chaos witch. Potluck champion. Probably still banned from three realms."
"I've changed," Tilda said. "Mostly."
Marissa stuck out a hand. "Nice to meet you. I think."
Tilda grabbed it with both hands and said, dead serious, "Protect him. Or destroy him. Either way, do it with flair."
"Noted."
The Evergreen Family Gathering had everything Marissa dreaded: too many introductions, way too much glitter, and at least one talking goat that claimed to be her "soul's former landlord."
She and Felix sat at a long banquet table surrounded by witches, wizards, shamans, one sleep-deprived oracle, and a baby that levitated each time it sneezed.
Across from them sat Felix's Aunt Gloria, who had not stopped squinting at Marissa since they arrived.
"So," Gloria said, pushing her glasses up her nose, "how did you two meet?"
Felix perked up. "Funny story—"
"She arrested him," Marissa said flatly.
The table went silent.
Then Tilda burst out laughing. "Oh, I like her."
"Technically," Felix added, "she only threatened to arrest me. I was causing a minor magical incident in a government building."
"Minor?" Marissa hissed.
"There were only some geese."
Gloria pursed her lips. "And now you're married?"
Marissa hesitated.
Felix looked at her.
Everyone leaned in.
Finally, Marissa said, "Yes. We are."
Felix blinked.
"We are?" he whispered.
She turned to him with a tiny smirk. "Aren't we?"
The table exploded with applause, magical fireworks, and at least one spontaneous rendition of a love ballad from a bard who'd had too much enchanted cider.
Felix leaned close, voice barely audible through the chaos. "You really meant that?"
"I said it, didn't I?"
He stared at her.
Then kissed her cheek so fast she didn't have time to prepare.
She turned bright red.
Barbara, from the chandelier, shrieked, "THEY'RE IN LOOOOVE!"
Felix grinned like an idiot.
Marissa, flustered, folded her napkin with extreme concentration. "It's still temporary," she muttered.
"Totally," he agreed. "Just... open-ended temporary."
---
They survived the family trials.
They won "Cutest Couple" thanks to Beanyoncé's slideshow presentation, which no one asked for.
They even made it through the final event — The Magical Couple's Maze — without arguing. Much.
As they left, hand in hand, Felix looked up at the sky and said, "You know, if this was our anniversary... it was kinda perfect."
Marissa gave him a sideways glance. "Even with the goat?"
"Especially with the goat."
She squeezed his hand, just once.
"Happy anniversary," she said quietly.
And for once, Felix had no comeback.
Just a smile that could light a thousand enchanted espresso machines.