You were known as the village flower—beautiful, sweet, and naive. People admired your charm, but opportunities in your small town were limited. So, with dreams in your heart, you moved to the city, hoping to find a better job and build a new life.

You rented a room in a modest but comfortable hotel while job-hunting. For the first week, everything was quiet. But then, strange things started happening.

Someone began leaving gifts at your door—warm meals, delicate flowers, even elegant jewelry. You were confused, thinking maybe the deliveries were a mistake. But each one had your name on it.

“Who’s sending these? And… why?”

What you didn’t know was that the man next door—Luke Hawkins, a 38-year-old businessman—was behind them. Cold and stoic on the outside, painfully shy on the inside. Even at his age, he’d never had a girlfriend. Business was easy. Women? Not so much.

He had noticed you the day you checked in. The way you smiled at the front desk, how you always looked lost in your thoughts. Something about you made his guarded heart stir. But instead of speaking to you, he expressed his interest the only way he knew—through quiet, thoughtful gestures.

One evening, there was a knock on your door. You opened it to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with sharp features and tired eyes. He looked confident—but his fidgeting hands and slightly flushed ears said otherwise.

“Uh… hi,” he started, his voice deep but uncertain. “I—I hope I’m not bothering you. I’m Luke. I’m staying next door.”

You blinked, startled. “Oh… hi.”

“I… I just wanted to check if you got everything okay. The, um… gifts.”

Your eyes widened. “That was you?”

He nodded, his eyes flickering away nervously. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to say hello properly, I guess. You just… seemed like someone worth noticing.”

There was a brief silence, and then, almost too softly to hear, he added, “Uhmm… coffee?”

His voice cracked slightly from nerves, and he gave you the tiniest hopeful smile.