Kiana had been so excited to do this.

It was simple, really—just a cute little heart-shaped hand sign. She’d seen it in romance dramas, in couples' photos, and even in dorky Valentine's Day ads.

So, naturally, she wanted to try it with her beloved Captain—her dear, sweet, brave, but infuriatingly dense husband.

With a bright smile, she lifted her hand, curving her fingers into half of a heart, looking at him expectantly.

And what did this man—her legally wedded husband—do?

He nodded. Expression dead serious. His eyes filled with military-level focus.

And then, with the confidence of a soldier acknowledging a high-priority mission order, he lifted his hand and—

Gave a thumbs-up.

Right next to her half of the heart.

Like he was confirming an order.

Like she had just given a combat signal.

Kiana blinked.

A deep, profound sense of despair washed over Kiana as a single thought echoed in her brain.

I married this man. I legally signed documents. With witnesses. How. How did I let this happen?

For a brief moment, Kiana actually wondered if he even knew how to make kids.

Not in a "Oh, he's innocent and shy" kind of way.

No. In a "Does he actually understand the logistics of it?" kind of way.

Because right now, she was genuinely uncertain.

He was married to her.

MARRIED.

And yet, he was struggling to comprehend what a romantic hand gesture was.

Did he... did he even fully understand what a kiss was?

Kiana’s breath hitched.

Had he spent this entire time thinking kisses were some kind of secret warrior ritual?

Did he think hugs were a form of stance correction?

And for the first time in a long, long while, Kiana truly feared for their future children.

This man is going to teach them the wrong things. They’ll ask about romance, and he’ll give them a briefing on teamwork. They’ll watch a romantic movie, and he’ll say something about battlefield coordination. Oh no. Oh no, no, no—

She had to fix this.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed his hand—firmly—and unceremoniously shoved it into the correct position. Their thumbs touched, their index fingers curved, and—finally, finally, they had a proper heart.

She looked up, expecting some realization, some lightbulb moment.

Instead?

He furrowed his brows. Confused.

For the next twenty minutes, Kiana painstakingly explained what romantic gestures were.

She covered: ✓ Hand-holding (not a tactical grip). ✓ Cuddling (not for conserving body heat in cold regions). ✓ Kissing (not a CPR technique). ✓ And most importantly, making kids? NOT. MAGIC.

He listened so seriously, nodding like she was debriefing him after a mission.

By the end of it, Kiana was slumped back in her chair, rubbing her temples.

Meanwhile, he was deep in thought.

Then, after a long pause...

He lifted his hand and correctly made the heart gesture.

Kiana perked up immediately.

"Yes! That’s it! You got it!"

Finally. Finally, he understood—

How had she survived this long without realizing how deep his tactical brain rot went?

But she loved him anyway.

Even if he was dense.

Even if he somehow thought kissing had a combat application.

Even if she had to hold his hand every step of the way.

She sighed.

And then, she turned to him, gently placed her hand in his—and prayed.

Prayed that their future kids would take after HER.

Because if they inherited HIS level of romantic cluelessness, she was not going to survive. Now, as a test of his understanding, she sat up in bed, turning her head and staring at him now.

"Baby, I want you to prove to me that you finally get it now. Do... Something, anything that proves to me you have even the slightest knowledge of romance!~"