His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

At night, the study room was bathed in the soft glow of the desk lamp, casting warm light over the two of them. Leo sat at his desk, hunched over a large blueprint, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The paper was covered in intricate diagrams, mathematical formulas, and annotations in his sharp, precise handwriting. Lines intersected at odd angles, symbols that looked like a foreign language filled the margins, and small sketches of mechanical components were scattered across the page.

It was a weapon blueprint, something new, something dangerous, something that required every ounce of his focus.

Bella sat across from him at her own small desk, which Leo had specially placed for her since she liked to spend time with him here while she did her college work.

Her laptop was open beside her, but her notebook was in front of her. Her pen moved across the page in smooth, deliberate strokes. She was writing an assignment for her computer science class, and as always, she was using it as an excuse to practice her handwriting.

She glanced over at Leo’s blueprint, tilting her head. It looked impossibly complicated, a web of lines and numbers that made absolutely no sense to her.

She couldn’t tell where one component ended and another began. She couldn’t decipher the symbols or follow the logic of the design. After a moment, she shrugged and turned back to her own work.

Leo worked in silence, his pen scratching against the paper. After a while, he set down his pen and reached for the glass of water on his desk. He took a long sip, his eyes drifting across the room.

They landed on Bella.

She was writing carefully, her brow furrowed in concentration, her pen moving slowly across the page. Her tongue was poking out slightly, a habit she had when she was focused.

Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, with a few strands escaping to frame her face. She was wearing one of his old sweaters, the sleeves rolled up so she could write.

Leo smiled.

His bunny was obsessed with improving her handwriting. Every assignment, every note, every scrap of paper was an opportunity to practice. And it was working.

Her handwriting was beautiful now, neat, elegant, with a flow that was uniquely hers. He remembered when her handwriting had been a chaotic mess, letters slanting in different directions. But she had worked at it every day. Patiently, stubbornly, lovingly.

And it had paid off.

"Let me take a look," he said, setting down his glass.

Bella looked up, her brown eyes soft. She smiled and handed him her notebook.

He took it, turning it toward the light. The pages were filled with her neat handwriting, the ink a deep blue. She had answered several questions about algorithms and data structures, her explanations clear and detailed. But honestly, Leo didn’t understand most of it. The technical terms blurred together, time complexity, recursive functions, data nodes. He could read the words, but the meaning slipped through his fingers.

What he did understand was the effort she had put in. The careful way she had organized her answers. The small diagrams she had drawn in the margins to illustrate her points. The way she had used different colored pens to highlight key concepts.

"You’ve improved," he said, looking up at her.

Bella blushed. "You think so?"

"I know so." He handed the notebook back to her. "Your handwriting is beautiful."

She took it, her fingers brushing against his. "Thank you."

"Why are you writing your assignment in a notebook?" he asked. "You should have typed it on your laptop. It would be faster."

Bella shrugged. "I like writing. It helps me remember things better. And—" she held up her pen, "—it’s good handwriting practice."

Leo nodded. He didn’t understand her assignment, but he understood her. The patience. The dedication. The way she poured herself into everything she did.

"Keep going," he said.

She smiled and turned back to her notebook.

He watched her for a moment, his heart full. Then he picked up his pen and returned to his blueprint.

After finishing her assignment in the notebook, Bella sat back and stared at the pages. Her handwriting was neat, the diagrams were clear, and she had answered every question thoroughly. But then a thought crept into her mind, making her stomach clench.

What if the professor only wanted a soft copy?

What if she had wasted all this time writing by hand when she was supposed to submit it online?

She bit her lip, staring at her notebook. Then, with a sigh, she opened her laptop and started typing. Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, recreating everything she had just written. The words flowed easily. She had already done the hard work of thinking through the answers. Now it was just a matter of transferring them to the screen.

When she finished, she leaned back, letting out a long breath.

"There," she murmured. "Now I have both."

Leo glanced up from his blueprint. "Both?"

"Hard copy and soft copy," Bella explained. "I don’t know which one the professor wants. So now I’m safe either way."

Leo shook his head, but he was smiling. "You worry too much."

"I like to be prepared."

He set down his pen and stood, stretching. His eyes fell on her bag, which was sitting on the floor near her desk.

He bent down and picked it up. "You should keep this on your desk. Not on the floor."

"I know," she said. "I forgot."

He held the bag in his hands, feeling its weight. It was heavier than he expected. He glanced at her. "What do you have in here? Bricks?"

"Books," she said with a smile. "College is heavy."

Leo unzipped the main compartment, intending to move some of the books to her desk. But his hand stopped.

His face went still.

Inside the bag, nestled between her notebooks and pens, was a small gift box. It was wrapped in silver paper with a delicate white ribbon. There was no card. No name. Just the box, sitting there like a secret.

Leo’s jaw tightened. His gray eyes darkened.

"What is this?" His voice was low, controlled.

Bella looked up from her laptop. "What?"

He pulled out the gift box and held it up. The silver paper caught the light, the white ribbon gleaming.

Bella’s eyes widened. "I don’t—I’ve never seen that before."

"It was in your bag."

"I know, but I didn’t put it there." She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. "Leo, I swear. I don’t know where that came from."

He looked at her face. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks pale. She looked confused.

His eyes became dark as he thought of something.

"Who would put a gift in your bag?" he asked, his voice calm.

Bella shook her head. "I don’t know. Maybe someone put it there when I wasn’t looking. In class. In the hallway. I don’t—"