[Perspective: Aryan Spencer]
I held Wanda's hand as we navigated away from the Charles Bridge.
"Stay right here for thirty seconds," I told her, stopping in front of a small storefront with a faded wooden sign hanging above the glass.
"What is in there?" Wanda asked, her eyes tracing the chaotic display of antique clocks, iron keys, and tarnished brass fixtures sitting in the window.
"Necessities," I said, lifting her hand to press a kiss against her knuckles. "Do not move. If a prince tries to sweep you away on a white horse, tell him you are waiting for a doctor."
Wanda laughed. "I will tell him my doctor is very fiercely territorial."
"Exactly," I grinned, pulling away and pushing the heavy wooden door open.
The little bell above it chimed a metallic note.
I walked directly to a small wooden crate sitting on the glass counter, sifting through the heavy brass hardware until I found exactly what I was looking for.
A vintage brass padlock with two intricately carved iron keys resting beside it.
I pulled a fifty euro note from my pocket, sliding it across the glass to the elderly man sitting behind the register.
"Mission accomplished," I announced, walking back to Wanda and slipping the heavy brass lock into the pocket of my blazer.
"You bought a secret," she noted, her eyes full of curiosity as she looped her arm through mine.
"I bought a metaphor," I corrected, steering us down the cobblestone path toward a less crowded pedestrian bridge spanning a narrow offshoot of the Vltava River.
The iron railings of this particular bridge were absolutely choked with metal.
Thousands upon thousands of padlocks, rusted and gleaming, painted and engraved, clung to the iron grates.
"This," I said, adopting a theatrical tone as we stopped in the center of the small bridge, "is a lover's bridge. History is hotly debated, but the sentiment is universal. Two people come here, they take a lock, they clasp it to the iron bones of the city, and they throw the key into the running water below."
I turned to face her, pulling the brass padlock and the small iron key from my pocket, holding them up between us.
"It represents an unbreakable bond," I explained, watching the sunlight catch the gold flecks in her eyes. "A promise that the connection cannot be undone, because the only thing that could unlock it is lost to the river forever."
Wanda stared at the brass lock in my palm, her lips parting in a soft gasp. "Wow. That is... that is incredibly romantic, Aryan."
"I know, right?" I smiled, feeling a genuine warmth expanding in my chest. "I do have my moments of sheer brilliance."
I stepped closer, invading her personal space until the toes of my shoes bumped against hers. I held the open padlock out toward her.
"So, my Queen," I whispered. "May I ask... can we lock our destiny from here onward with this padlock and throw the key into the canal as a symbol of our eternal commitment?"
Wanda looked up at me.
"Wow," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "Do you not know that throwing away the key is incredibly possessive? You are trapping me to you, Dr. Spencer."
"Well," I sighed dramatically, leaning my face down until my nose almost brushed against hers. "I am a very possessive kind of person, Wanda. I am highly territorial of my heart. Tell me... am I still lovable despite my flaws?"
Wanda burst into a laugh. She brought both of her hands up, her warm palms cupping my cheeks, her thumbs resting gently against my cheekbones.
"Yes," she whispered, her gaze dropping to my lips. "You are intensely lovable."
I handed her the open padlock. She took it.
Together, we reached the iron grate of the bridge. We found an empty space on the rusted metal wire.
I guided her hands, our fingers overlapping as we pushed the brass shackle through the iron grate and clicked it shut.
Click.
The sound of metal locking in place felt permanent.
I held up the small iron key. I placed it gently into the center of her palm, closing her fingers around it.
"Do the honors," I murmured.
Wanda looked at the small key in her hand. Then, she looked up at me, an expression of unwavering devotion glowing on her face.
She turned her hand over, extending her arm out past the railing of the bridge, and let the key slip from her fingers.
We both turned our heads, looking at each other.
I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist, hauling her flush against my chest, and crashed my lips down onto hers.
Wanda responded instantly, her hands tangling into the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me closer.
It was a deep kiss, completely ignorant of the city around us, ignorant of the tourists, ignorant of everything except the taste of her and the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on our shoulders.
"Come on, guys. Get a room for that."
The voice was completely monotone, dripping with unamused sarcasm, and it sliced right through our romantic bubble like a dull knife.
Wanda gasped, jumping backward out of my arms.
Her face flushed a brilliant crimson as she hurriedly smoothed the front of her red dress, refusing to look at the source of the interruption.
I let out a frustrated sigh, turning my head slowly to glare at the intruders.
Standing a few feet away, holding a half-eaten gelato cone and wearing an expression of bored indifference, was MJ.
And standing right next to her, looking entirely mortified and trying to desperately hide the fact that his fingers were tightly interlocked with MJ's, was Peter Parker.
"It is very nice to meet you again, Miss MJ. And Peter," I said, emphasizing their names with a heavy dose of irony, my eyes pointedly dropping down to their joined hands.
Peter followed my gaze, his face turning an impressive shade of red.
He tried to subtly pull his hand away, but MJ simply tightened her grip, refusing to let him go.
"It is... it is also very nice to meet you, Dr. Spencer," Peter stammered, his voice cracking slightly. He offered an awkward wave with his free hand. "And Miss Wanda! Hi!"
Wanda, finally recovering her composure, offered an embarrassed smile. "Hi to both of you."
I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back against the stone railing of the bridge.
I looked directly at Peter, raising a knowing eyebrow.
"Your relationship seems to be progressing quite smoothly, Parker," I noted, a smug grin touching my lips. "Is that all because of my highly professional advice?"
Peter looked absolutely terrified to answer the question in front of MJ, his eyes darting between my face and his girlfriend's deadpan expression.
"I... uh... no," Peter said. He slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Okay, yes. Yes, it is mostly because of you. Thank you."
MJ opened her mouth, clearly preparing to deliver a devastating critique of Peter's reliance on a stranger's dating advice.
I decided to cut her off before she could ruin the poor kid's self esteem.
"We are about to go for a late lunch," I announced, clapping my hands together. "Why don't you two join us?"
Peter blinked, looking incredibly overwhelmed. "Oh, no, Dr. Spencer, we couldn't. Are we bothering you? We don't want to intrude on your... bridge activities."
"No, that's totally fine," I insisted, gesturing vaguely down the cobblestone street. "I also want to see some awkward teenage romance while I am eating. It aids in my digestion."
Peter looked completely embarrassed, burying his free hand into his face.
"We like free food," MJ stated, ignoring Peter's mortification entirely. "Lead the way, Love Guru."
We walked a few blocks away from the main tourist arteries, navigating the narrow alleys until we found a high end Italian fusion restaurant tucked behind a wrought iron gate.
I requested a private dining room.
The maître d', recognizing the weight of the euro notes I subtly slipped into his palm, immediately ushered us down a quiet hallway and into a secluded room.
The room was elegant, featuring a large circular table draped in crisp white linen, surrounded by velvet backed chairs.
We took our seats. I sat next to Wanda. Peter and MJ sat opposite us.
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