I smirked, snatched the car keys from his hand, and said, “Let me drive. If what I show you next doesn’t scare you off, then my answer is yes.”

Confused, Jack let me take the wheel.

I drove us out of the city, past quiet suburbs, and up to a towering set of iron gates. Jack’s brows furrowed. “Uh… where are we going?”

“Remember when I said I grew up in a modest house?” I asked innocently.

“Yeah?”

“I may have stretched the definition of ‘modest’ a bit.”

I punched in a code, and the gates swung open, revealing an estate with pristine gardens, fountains, and a hedge maze.

Jack’s jaw dropped. “Giselle… what the hell?”

“Welcome to my childhood home,” I said, grinning.

He stared at me, stunned. “So… you were testing me while I was testing you?”

“Looks like it.”

Jack exhaled in disbelief. “Wait… all those times you acted impressed by my hot plate cooking—”

“Oh, that wasn’t acting. I was genuinely amazed anyone could cook on that thing.”

For a second, I thought he’d be mad. But then, Jack burst out laughing. “We’re ridiculous,” he said. “I was testing you, and you had a palace this whole time?”

“Basically.” I smirked. “Guess we both passed the test.”

Jack shook his head, still chuckling. “So… does this mean your answer is yes?”

I tapped my chin. “Hmm… I guess I’ll marry you.”

He kissed me. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

Six months later, we got married in a small, beautiful ceremony. The only problem? Our families wouldn’t stop talking about how we had “tricked” each other.

And just like that, we were back to being us—two ridiculous people who fell in love over instant ramen, broken heaters, and a couch held together by duct tape.