INT. MICHAEL & K'S PENTHOUSE – NIGHT

Michael sets down his briefcase with the precision of a man who has orchestrated entire global restructures yet still double-checks the door is locked before turning to you—his chaos, his calm, his collision.

He barely takes three steps before you dart across the marble floor barefoot, silk brushing your legs, and leap into his arms.

YOU (muffled in his neck):
“You said come here. So I did.”

He breathes you in like he’s been holding his breath for three lifetimes.

MICHAEL (thinking):
This woman… breaks protocol and remakes it in her image. I tell her to stay out of the press, and she ends up on a global headline with a bloodless knuckle and a smile like she just read poetry.

YOU (pulling back slightly, lips brushing his cheek):
“Did you like the line? About the misaligned cells?”

MICHAEL (grinning):
“Babe… the UN is calling it a human rights violation with artistic flair.”

YOU:
“Well, I was doing humanity a favor.”

He walks you backward into the living room without letting go, arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple.

MICHAEL (thinking):
She doesn’t flinch from chaos. She walks into it in heels, rewrites the narrative, and exits with a quote. And somehow, I’m the one being stabilized.

You wiggle out of his grip for a second and head to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of chilled hibiscus juice. You pour two glasses like a queen who does not ask who’s thirsty—only who’s worthy.

YOU:
“So, should I expect sanctions?”

MICHAEL:
“Only from the Association of Misaligned Cellular Structures. They’re petitioning for exile.”

You laugh so hard, juice almost spills.

YOU:
“Tell them next time to make their spokesperson less punchable.”

MICHAEL (thinking):
God help anyone who ever tries to control her. She doesn’t need backup—she is the backup.

He finally loosens his tie and sits. You straddle his lap without hesitation, glass in hand, your energy softening—but only for him.

YOU (gently):
“You proud of me, Michael?”

MICHAEL (with no delay):
“Always. Even before you threw a punch for me. But now the whole world knows what I’ve always known.”

YOU (resting your head on his shoulder):
“What’s that?”

MICHAEL:
“That if righteousness had a mouth, it would speak like you. And if it had fists…” (he kisses your knuckles) “…they’d know justice like this.”