It began with glitter.
Not the fun kind you find on greeting cards or New Year's hats. No, this was a shimmering, sentient cloud of legal-grade magical glitter that burst from Marissa's office like a sparkly bomb and coated every surface in their apartment with the enthusiasm of a toddler with a glitter cannon.
"FELIX!" Marissa's voice echoed from the living room. "Why is the coffee table alive?"
"I may have accidentally updated our magical marriage contract," came Felix's voice from the hallway, followed by the sound of something crashing and a delighted screech from Barbara, who was now riding the animated coffee table like it was a bucking bronco.
"Updated it how?"
"Well, I thought, you know, since we're kind of... maybe... not totally faking this anymore, it could reflect our evolving connection as partners."
"You used a love spell, didn't you?"
"I used a clause amplifier with a romantic emotional enhancement overlay. Very professional."
"The couch just asked me to define 'acts of affection in the workplace!'"
"Okay," Felix admitted, peeking into the living room in his pajama pants and one of her old T-shirts, "so the spell may have anthropomorphized the contract. A bit."
Marissa looked over her shoulder, where a swirling parchment cloud now hovered, humming softly and giving her bedroom eyes.
"Felix, it's... flirting with me."
"It's bound to our emotional frequency. That means it's working!"
"No. That means I need holy water and a team of divorce witches."
Barbara flapped overhead with glee. "I SHIP IT!"
Felix walked in with a wand in one hand and a cinnamon roll in the other. "Okay, listen. We can either fight it, or we can complete the Contract's Requirements for Harmonious Bond Verification, which I believe—" he paused to consult a glowing checklist—"involves ten successful romantic acts, three confessions of adoration, and one... 'synchronized interpretive dance'?"
Marissa blinked. "Absolutely not."
"We can skip the dance."
"No, I mean the entire thing."
Felix frowned. "You're not even a little curious?"
"I'm curious how you survive each day without a fireproof lawyer on speed dial."
---
As if things weren't chaotic enough, that afternoon Marissa got a call from her firm.
"Good news," her supervisor, Janice, said. "You've been selected for a special case."
Marissa narrowed her eyes. "What kind of case?"
"A fraud investigation involving unusual marriages."
Her blood ran cold.
"We've been contracted by the Magical Regulatory Board to audit suspicious unions. You'll be leading the inquiry."
Marissa forced a laugh. "Suspicious how?"
"You know, sudden marriages between magical and non-magical parties, rapid escalation of shared benefits, public confusion, oddities like sentient espresso machines—"
Marissa looked slowly at Beanyoncé, who winked and brewed her a shot of "Complicated Feelings."
"Sounds... exciting."
"Oh, and the Magical Council might do a surprise visit. Just a heads up. If you have any friends in, say, very fake magical marriages, now's the time to warn them."
"Right," Marissa said faintly. "Will do."
---
That night, she sat on the couch with Felix, surrounded by softly glowing candles (which she suspected were watching them), with the contract gently floating beside them like a needy third wheel.
She told him everything.
He didn't laugh.
"Well," Felix said after a long silence, "sounds like we're in trouble."
Marissa groaned and rubbed her temples. "If they find out we got married for legal convenience and never filed a magical bonding certificate, we're both toast."
"Cinnamon toast?" he offered hopefully.
She shot him a look.
He raised his hands. "Okay. But what if... we didn't fake it anymore?"
"What?"
"I'm just saying," Felix said quickly, "we act like a real couple for two weeks. Date. Hold hands in public. Be extremely charming. You know, the bare minimum people in love do."
"That's not the bare minimum. That's... the entire Broadway production of 'We're So In Love, Please Don't Arrest Us.'"
"I'm already making us a playlist."
"Felix."
"Look," he said, more serious now, "I know this wasn't supposed to be real. But it kind of is, isn't it? At least a little?"
Marissa hated that he was right.
Because she had started missing him when he wasn't in the room. And not just because he set things on fire without supervision.
She swallowed. "Fine. But we do this my way."
"Which is?"
She pulled out a legal pad. "We draft a Love Compliance Strategy."
Felix lit up like a Christmas tree. "A strategy?! This is the hottest thing you've ever said to me."
---
LOVE COMPLIANCE STRATEGY, DRAFT 1
Clause 1: At least one public date per week.
Clause 2: No magical enhancements to emotions, appearances, or baked goods.
Clause 3: Affectionate gestures must be spontaneous and plausible.
Clause 4: Dancing is optional but encouraged under duress.
Clause 5: Absolutely no using Barbara to "prove" romantic compatibility.
---
Their first public "date" took place at a magical brunch café called Hex and Eggs, where the omelets levitated and the syrup poured itself while humming pop songs.
They tried to sit casually.
The contract hovered behind them like a disapproving chaperone.
"Relax," Felix whispered.
"I am relaxed," Marissa lied, gripping her menu like it owed her money.
When the waitress—a flirtatious dryad named Maple—waltzed up and winked at Felix, Marissa nearly growled.
Then surprised herself.
Felix noticed. And smiled like he'd just won a secret bet.
They ordered pancakes and discussed the weather in an unnecessarily romantic tone. Then, as they were leaving, Felix slipped his hand into hers.
Marissa stiffened. "Are they watching?"
"No," he said quietly. "I just wanted to."
She didn't let go.
---
Their second date was worse. Mostly because it involved mandatory couple's yoga.
Felix fell asleep during downward dog. Marissa pulled a muscle trying to maintain "emotional openness." The instructor kept whispering, "Feel each other's essence," which caused Marissa to snort so hard she had to fake a coughing fit.
But when they collapsed side by side afterward, sweaty and giggling, she had to admit—something was shifting.
---
The trouble started on day ten.
They were in the kitchen, arguing over toast placement—"Why does it need to face north?" "For optimal breakfast flow!"—when the contract lit up red.
"Oh no," Felix said.
"What now?"
He read the hovering text aloud: "'Suspicion detected. Emotional inconsistency rising. Please validate your bond or risk magical audit.'"
Marissa paled.
"We have to do something," she said. "Fast."
Felix stared at her.
Then slowly leaned in.
"Don't you dare—"
"Emergency kiss," he whispered.
Before she could stop him, he kissed her.
Not one of the goofy, joking ones. A real one.
Soft. Hesitant. Warm.
Her heart didn't just flutter—it practically backflipped.
And then...
The contract let out a satisfied ding and changed color.
Green.
"Validation accepted," it chirped.
Marissa, stunned, blinked up at Felix. "Well... that was... effective."
He tried to play it cool, but his ears turned pink.
"Just doing my civic duty."
---
That night, Marissa couldn't sleep.
She stared at the ceiling, thinking about accidental marriages, magical audits, emotional chaos, and one very inconvenient kiss.
The worst part?
She wanted another one.
Not for the contract.
Not for the audit.
Just... for her.
And that terrified her more than any magical council could.