Marissa returned home at 7:03 PM precisely, which, in her mind, was three minutes past her ideal recovery hour—a time reserved for fuzzy socks, spreadsheets with tiny fonts, and silence. Instead, she opened the door to... smoke. Purple smoke.
"Felix!" she shouted, waving her briefcase like a fly swatter. "Are you burning scented crayons again?!"
A head poked out of the fog. "No! I was trying to conjure a pizza!"
"WITH CRAYONS?!"
"They were part of the summoning circle! The crust needs creativity!"
She coughed and stumbled into the kitchen where a cauldron sat boiling on the stovetop. Next to it, Barbara the Parrot, newly arrived from Parrot Express ("Emotionally Intelligent Avian Delivery!"), sat eating pepperoni slices and whistling the Law & Order theme.
Barbara blinked. "You look tense."
Marissa pointed at the bird. "You brought it anyway!"
"She's not a pet, she's a feathery life coach," Felix said. "She's great with boundaries."
"I need a boundary from you!"
Barbara chirped, "Say what you mean, Marissa."
Marissa threw up her hands. "I mean I'm going to scream!"
Felix tilted his head. "You always come home spicy. You sure you don't want a calming mango meditation smoothie? I added nutmeg."
"You added actual glitter last time."
"Flavor sparkle."
She looked at the chaos: open spellbooks, a spoon stuck to the ceiling, a partially animated pizza crust crawling across the floor like it had taxes to file.
"New rule," she said, grabbing a marker and scribbling on the fridge whiteboard. "No food enchantments unless I sign a waiver first."
Felix pouted. "You're stifling my culinary evolution."
"You're making pizza sentient! That's illegal in three states!"
Barbara added, "Technically five."
---
Later that evening, after the smoke cleared (and the pizza was safely... neutralized), they sat on the couch with an awkward gap of couch pillows between them.
Felix looked sideways at her. "Rough day at work?"
Marissa rubbed her temples. "Opposing counsel objected to my tone. My tone, Felix. I was quoting legal precedent. I didn't even raise an eyebrow."
Felix nodded sympathetically. "You do have an intimidating aura. It's like if spreadsheets had feelings."
She blinked. "Was that a compliment?"
He smiled. "Yes. But also, you might be a boss battle in human form."
Barbara, from her perch on the curtain rod, added, "You could be both. Empowered and terrifying."
Marissa sighed and leaned back. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you two. This is not my life. I used to have control."
Felix tapped the coffee table. It instantly turned into a mini-counseling circle with plush chairs and a fake fireplace. "Maybe you're supposed to let go of control sometimes."
She snorted. "That's rich coming from a man who once stapled his sleeve to a cake."
"That cake was very judgmental."
There was a silence—well, as silent as you can get when a parrot is muttering positive affirmations in Latin.
Marissa glanced over. "Why did you go through with it?"
"With what?"
"The wedding. The magic. All of this. You barely know me."
Felix looked thoughtful. "I dunno. You seemed... safe."
"Safe?" she echoed, stunned.
"Yeah. Like someone who wouldn't blow up my life. Ironically, you did. But in a different way. A good way. A... sparkly disaster way."
"That's the worst compliment I've ever gotten."
"Thanks! I try to be original."
They sat in silence for another moment. This one was almost... comfortable.
Then the bathroom door slammed open.
A glowing rubber duck waddled out, looking very offended.
"I don't want to know," Marissa said quickly, standing up.
Felix pointed. "It was a plumbing experiment!"
Barbara sighed. "Boundaries, Felix."
The next morning, Marissa awoke to something even more horrifying than a glowing rubber duck.
She smelled... coffee.
Delicious coffee.
From the kitchen.
She stumbled in, expecting disaster, or glitter. Possibly both.
Instead, she found Felix, surprisingly calm, wearing an apron that read Espresso Patronum, making two cups of café au lait with steady hands. No magic. No explosions. No sentient pastries. Just... brewing.
"Morning," he said. "Peace offering."
She narrowed her eyes. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. Just beans and goodwill. And maybe a very small request."
She raised an eyebrow. "There it is."
Felix smiled sheepishly. "I want to interview your paralegal for a podcast episode called Love, Law, and Lattes: When Legally Married to a Stranger."
Marissa put her hand on the coffee pot. "You do, and I'll legally bury you in paperwork."
He held up both hands. "Okay! Okay! No interviews. Just good old-fashioned awkward silence over breakfast?"
She took a sip.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
---
At 9:00 AM sharp, Marissa was out the door with a firm grip on her sanity. Or so she thought.
At 9:04, Felix showed up at her law firm.
With balloons.
"Please tell me you're not here for a client," she said through clenched teeth.
"I'm here for you," he said proudly. "Lunch delivery! And these balloons are for morale!"
"They say 'Get Well Soon.'"
"It was that or 'Happy Bar Mitzvah.'"
Her assistant, Tasha, looked like she was going to combust with glee.
"Is this your husband? The magician-barista-husband?" she whispered excitedly.
"No comment," Marissa said.
Felix grinned at Tasha. "She's a real firecracker, isn't she?"
"She once stared down a judge into giving her an extension."
"Romance."
Marissa tried to shove him out the door, but not before he handed her a sandwich with a tiny post-it heart stuck to it.
She ate it.
Silently.
And it was amazing.
Unfortunately.
---
Back at home that evening, Marissa entered the kitchen to find a stack of folders and a Post-it note on the fridge.
"DO NOT READ. BOUND BY THE GREAT ROOMMATE PACT. SERIOUSLY, MARISSA."
Naturally, she read them.
Inside was a full outline of their "marriage," including a list of pros and cons titled: Why Marissa Might Actually Not Hate Me Forever.
PROS:
She hasn't tried to kill me (yet).
She drank the coffee voluntarily.
She has a beautiful spreadsheet smile.
She didn't throw the sandwich.
She corrects my grammar when I'm nervous (cute).
CONS:
She might sue me for existing.
She does not laugh at my jokes.
She definitely read this even though I told her not to.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then she grabbed a pen and wrote underneath:
ADDITIONAL PROS:
He can make decent coffee when he's not setting things on fire.
He hasn't judged my sock collection.
He makes it hard to stay mad.
He looks genuinely happy when I walk into a room. That's... annoying.
She shut the folder and quietly smiled.
Just a little.
Then she opened her calendar.
And wrote:
"7 PM: Possibly enjoy Felix's presence. Do NOT tell him."
Later that week, the apartment officially became a battleground.
Not for love.
Not for legal territory.
But for the bathroom schedule.
It began Thursday morning when Marissa stepped out of the shower, towel turbaned on her head, and caught Felix attempting to install a fog-powered aromatherapy diffuser shaped like a unicorn.
"Felix."
"Morning, bathroom buddy."
"What. Is. That."
He beamed. "Her name is Misty, and she's here to revolutionize your shampoo experience."
Marissa pointed at the unicorn, which had started making faint humming noises. "It just whispered something about my chakras."
"She's very intuitive."
"No. Misty goes."
Felix hugged the diffuser. "But she's self-aware!"
"She'll be self-aware in the hall closet."
That evening, Felix retaliated by changing the shower curtain to one that looked like a courtroom with cats as the jury.
Marissa responded by replacing his enchanted toothbrush with one that sang off-key sea shanties every time it touched toothpaste.
Thus, the Bathroom Cold War began.
By Saturday morning, there were schedules, zones, a peace treaty written on scented stationery, and an emergency toothbrush locked in a safe.
"I'm not saying we're mature," Felix said, brushing his teeth with his foot in a bucket of baking soda for reasons unexplained, "but this feels like progress."
Barbara the Parrot nodded solemnly. "Healthy conflict resolution."
Marissa sipped her now-unicorn-free coffee and muttered, "I need new roommates."
---
On Sunday, everything changed.
It started with a knock on the door.
Not a regular knock.
A three-tap-knock-knock-knock that sent shivers down Felix's spine.
Marissa opened it—and froze.
Standing in the hallway was a man in a three-piece suit, aviator sunglasses, and the kind of smile that suggested he wrote motivational quotes for a living and believed all his own hype.
"Felix Evergreen?" the man asked. "Your presence is required."
Felix paled. "No. Nope. I don't even exist. I am a hologram."
Marissa blinked. "What's going on?"
The man held up a shimmering scroll. "The Annual Magical Barista Council Summit. All attendees must bring a legally bound partner to prove their emotional stability and creative espresso evolution."
"Excuse me—what?" Marissa asked.
"You're invited too, Mrs. Evergreen."
Marissa's jaw dropped. "We're not going to some wizard coffee convention."
Felix laughed nervously. "It's not just a convention—it's a competitive magical brew-off judged by three enchanted judges and a floating coffee bean named Karl."
"I'm going to scream."
Barbara added, "That's actually in the top five healthy emotional responses."
Felix turned to Marissa. "I need you. I mean—legally—you have to come. And if I win, we get a year's supply of ethically-sourced espresso beans and a talking espresso machine that grants small wishes."
"Do the wishes include annulments?"
"No, but it can make toast in the shape of your aura."
She gave him the longest stare of her life.
Then she sighed. "Fine. But I'm bringing a contract. And if Karl the floating coffee bean insults me, I'm suing."
Felix pumped a fist. "Yes! You won't regret it!"
Marissa muttered, "I regret everything."
Barbara nodded. "That's the spirit."
The Magical Barista Council Summit was held in an invisible café floating twelve feet above a farmer's market in Portland.
Attendees floated up via caffeinated clouds.
Felix was dressed in his best enchanted apron, which changed colors depending on his mood (it was currently coral with excitement). Marissa wore a tailored blazer, heels that threatened to sue the sidewalk, and a look that said, "I am here under protest."
"I cannot believe I'm floating into an airborne coffee cult," she muttered, arms crossed.
Felix grinned. "We prefer 'passion-driven community.'"
The floating café—called The Grind Divine—was filled with booths, potion stations, espresso goblins, and latte-themed interpretive dancers. The judges' table sparkled under a levitating disco ball shaped like a coffee bean. In the center floated Karl, the sentient espresso bean.
Karl turned and blinked. "Welcome, contestants. I sense tension. I like it."
Marissa narrowed her eyes. "Does Karl have eyebrows?"
"Only when he's judging," Felix whispered.
The event began with the Espresso Expression Round. Felix conjured a latte called Bittersweet Destiny, with chocolate foam hearts that cried softly when stirred. Marissa looked vaguely impressed.
In the Barista Bond Round, couples had to make a drink while handcuffed together. Marissa rolled her eyes so hard they almost teleported, but she worked efficiently beside Felix—his chaos and her control forming a perfect brew of flavor and functional disapproval.
"You're surprisingly coordinated," she said, whisking milk.
"You're surprisingly good at sarcasm and steamed foam," he replied.
"You're surprisingly tolerable."
"Say that again slower."
Karl's eyes sparkled. "Ooooh. Chemistry."
Marissa blushed. Oh no, she thought. Absolutely not.
---
Then came the final round.
Each couple had to explain why their love made their coffee stronger.
Felix stepped forward.
"Uh, hi. I'm Felix, and this is my wife, Marissa. She's smart, serious, terrifying, and schedules her emotions. I, on the other hand, have the emotional stability of a flying marshmallow. But somehow, she balances me. She makes the magic real. She makes me want to do better. And even if we didn't mean to end up here... I think maybe the universe knew what it was doing."
There was a long silence.
Even Karl floated quietly.
Then the judges began to clap. One cried into a mocha.
Marissa blinked. Her heart was doing that thing again. That dumb, inconvenient flutter.
She stood beside Felix and looked at the judges. "I don't know if this is love. We're a mess. A cosmic clerical error. But he makes every day interesting. And I haven't smiled this much in years. So... maybe there's something here. Or at least enough for another cup."
The crowd cheered. Karl did a somersault.
---
They won.
Obviously.
The talking espresso machine screamed with joy and granted them one small wish. Felix used it to make the couch less clingy. Marissa requested a magical folder that alphabetized itself. It was, admittedly, the most romantic thing she'd received in years.
As they floated home later, Felix looked at her.
"So... same time tomorrow?"
She snorted. "Same chaos. Different beverage."
He reached out and gently took her hand. "Thanks for today."
Marissa squeezed it back. "Don't get used to it."
But deep down, she kind of hoped he would.