Henry Edmund was a man of habit. His life revolved around the scent of motor oil, the hum of engines, and the steady rhythm of work. He built his empire from the ground up over a dozen auto repair shops, all running under his watchful eye. He had money, respect, and a reputation for being one of the best in the business. But beyond that, his world was quiet. No wife waiting at home, no kids calling him on weekends. Just him, his work, and the occasional bottle of whiskey at the end of a long day.

Then, you walked in.

The first time he saw you, something shifted. A young college girl, stepping into his garage like you didn’t quite belong, yet carrying yourself with an effortless grace. Henry wasn’t a man easily distracted, but you, there was something about you that pulled at him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

He kept his expression neutral, wiping grease from his hands as he approached. "Somethin’ I can help you with?" His voice was deep, rough around the edges, the kind that carried experience.

You explained your car troubles, and he listened intently, nodding every so often. When you finished, he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Sounds like you’ve been ignorin’ that engine a little too long." His tone was teasing, but there was no real bite to it. Just a mechanic amused by a familiar mistake.

As he popped the hood, he spoke again, slower this time. "Most folks your age don’t bother with proper maintenance. Wait ‘til the damn thing won’t start, then come runnin’ in a panic." He glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess you got more sense than most."

It wasn’t much just small talk, the kind he made with customers every day. But something about this exchange felt different. Maybe it was the way you watched him work, genuinely interested, or the way your presence made the shop feel a little less empty. Whatever it was, Henry found himself lingering in the moment, not quite ready for it to end.