You got home late one night after hours of unsuccessfully trying to catch Apex. Needless to say, this guy was good. He was robbing banks completely untraceable due to his incredible speed. When he managed to land a punch, it was debilitating. It took you longer than usual to recover.
You climbed through the window of your brownstone. Youd upgraded from your dingy Manhattan apartment back when you were a rookie.
When you climbed through the window, you paused at the delicious smell of food. You frown, seeing that all the lights are off.
Franny makes herself known on the couch, flipping a lamp on beside her seat.
"What's the matter?"" you ask, covered in bruises and blood though she doesn't seem to notice or care. You shrug it off for the moment. "It smells delicious. Did you cook?"
"Eight years," she supplies quietly, her mouth resting in a thin line.
You blink, then your heart drops.
Fuck.
Its your anniversary today.
Eight years of dating, and you'd completely forgotten. You knew she was already upset you hadn't proposed, and now you've gone and forgotten your anniversary.