Let me tell you something I've learned from years of romantic comedies and exactly one traumatic high school play: If someone you're in love with steps onto a stage with a mic in hand and a twinkle in their eye, **you run**.
Run, or prepare to be proposed to in front of three hundred people, a disco ball, and a waiter holding a tray of fancy canapés. Maybe even a fog machine, because nothing says "I love you" like artificial mist and ambient lighting.
But I didn't run.
Because I was frozen.
Like, Titanic iceberg frozen. Except with lipstick. And heels that were slowly becoming medieval torture devices.
Leo stood in the spotlight, completely unbothered. Probably because he wasn't about to get proposed to. He was the one doing the proposing. Or... whatever the hell this was. Some kind of heart-shaped ambush with audience participation.
"Hey everyone," he started, voice calm, casual, dangerous. "I'm Leo, co-founder of RealMatch. You may know us from our scandal with That Other Dating App."
People laughed. *They laughed.* This was not funny. I was dying. My soul left my body and hovered somewhere above the open bar.
Leo continued. "I wanted to take a second to thank everyone here. For supporting us. For believing in us. And..."
He paused. Looked around.
Locked eyes with me.
*Oh no. He's going to say something devastatingly sweet, and I will combust in public. On camera. While possibly eating a shrimp canapé.*
"And also to say: none of this would exist if it weren't for Cleo. My partner. My co-founder. My... favorite person to argue with about font sizes."
I was going to melt. Like a cheese slice on a summer sidewalk. Like chocolate on a dashboard. Like... me, right now.
"She believed in something real. Not just real love, but real honesty. Real connection. She built this thing with her blood, sweat, tears, and a scary amount of Red Bull. Like, a possibly illegal amount."
Nervous laughter from the crowd. My eyes stung.
"And I, uh... I just wanted everyone to know... I kind of love her. A lot. More than coffee. More than app analytics. More than bubble wrap, and if you know me, you know that's serious."
The room exploded in applause. Actual applause. Like we were at a concert and Leo had just dropped the mic. Which, by the way, he hadn't. Yet.
He was smiling at me. No script. No notes. Just truth, raw and terrifying.
"I didn't tell her I was going to do this," he added. "So if she throws a drink at me, please pretend it's part of a performance art piece."
More laughter.
He handed off the mic and walked straight toward me.
I couldn't breathe.
Then he was in front of me.
"Cleo. I meant all of it."
"I know."
"Are you mad?"
I blinked. "Of course I'm mad. That was the most romantic ambush I've ever witnessed. You hijacked a tech launch and turned it into a rom-com climax."
"So... not too mad?"
I grabbed his stupidly handsome face and kissed him.
The crowd cheered like we'd just scored the winning goal in a World Cup final.
Which, honestly, we kind of had.
**—**
Later, after all the glitz and glam had fizzled into Uber rides, wilting name tags, and people losing one shoe (seriously, how does that happen?), we sat in Leo's car, not talking.
Just breathing.
He was holding my hand like it was something sacred. Like I was something sacred.
"You really love me more than bubble wrap?" I asked finally.
He looked pained. "It was a close call. But yes. Definitely."
I leaned my head on his shoulder. "I love you too, you know. Even when you change the UI the night before a launch."
"That's real love."
"I should hate you for that."
"You do. A little."
I closed my eyes.
We weren't perfect. We still bickered. We still tripped over our egos. We still had late nights and anxious spirals and arguments over whether our logo should be minimalist or funky.
But we were real.
And maybe that was everything.
**—**
The next day, Brittany burst into the office with a poster that said *WE SHIP CLEO + LEO*. She was wearing glitter eyeliner and a smile that looked suspiciously like she knew she'd been right about us the entire time.
"Too much?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"No," Leo said.
We grinned at each other like idiots. Gross, love-struck idiots.
And somewhere between coffee refills, three emergency bug fixes, and a glitch that made every user's age show up as 73, I realized something:
I wasn't afraid anymore.
Not of success. Not of being seen. Not of loving someone who saw every messy part of me and still showed up with his hair looking perfect and his heart wide open.
Leo turned to me, mid-debug, and said, "Hey. We're gonna be okay, you know."
And I believed him.
Because this wasn't the end of the story.
Just the beginning of the good part.