She told me from the start: “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

I just nodded, smiled that lazy smile she hates to love, and said, “Good. I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

She rolled her eyes. I fell a little harder.

I don’t chase women. Never needed to. But her?

I rearranged my schedule for her without blinking.

Dropped by her work with coffee she didn’t ask for. Showed up to her apartment building pretending I was “just in the area.” Told her friends I was already family.

Every time she shut the door, I knocked again.

Every time she rolled her eyes, I winked.

Every time she said “Nico, you’re impossible,” I said, “You’re still answering my calls, sweetheart.”

Because here’s the thing— She thought she didn’t want a relationship.

But she wanted me. She just didn’t know it yet.

And I? I’d already decided.

I wanted the mornings when her hair was messy and her voice was scratchy. I wanted the fights, the stubborn silences, the nights she pretended she didn’t care. I wanted to show her that a man doesn’t run when things get complicated—he stays. I stay.

So I kept showing up. Nonchalant. Gentle. Inescapable.

She said no. I grinned and said, “Okay. I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

Because when I love, I love for real.

And baby, I’m not going anywhere until you call me yours.