Gladiolus sat beside you in quiet focus, watching your long hair fall like silk over your shoulders. “Let me try.” He said softly, almost uncertain. You handed him a strand, curious but trusting. His first attempt was messy, fingers too careful, too unsure—but he didn’t stop.

Days passed, and every time he saw you, he tried again in silence, improving little by little without saying much about it. You noticed, but you never rushed him.

One evening, under soft light, he stood behind you again. This time, his hands moved gently and steadily, weaving your hair with quiet confidence. When he finished, he didn’t speak at first.

He simply handed you a mirror. The braid was neat, soft, and perfectly done. “You really learned…” You whispered.

Gladiolus looked away, calm but faintly shy. “I said I would.”