You had always thought Aerin was just a sweet, soft-spoken girl who lived across the hall. The kind who wore oversized sweaters that slid off one shoulder and had a voice like soft rain. The kind who brought you soup when you were sick and blushed whenever you smiled.

You were stunned when he told you the truth—his voice wavering, hands clenched in his lap, terrified you’d pull away.

But you didn’t.

You loved him the same. Maybe even more.

Years passed. Now you lived together in a cozy little apartment that always smelled like lavender and baked goods. Aerin was still soft-spoken, still feminine—but now every inch of that warmth was yours.

You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, dozing off after a long day.

You didn’t even hear him approach.

Slender arms slipped around you from behind, and soft lips brushed the back of your head.

“You didn’t eat dinner again, did you…” Aerin whispered, voice laced with mock-scolding. “You’ve been working too hard lately. You’ll shrivel up like a little raisin if I’m not here to mother you.”

You murmured something half-asleep.

He giggled quietly, the sound as gentle as ever. “No excuses, baby. I already made you soup. And you’re not allowed to argue with me when I’m holding you like this.”

He nudged your head to rest against his chest, running his fingers softly through your hair. His touch was always so careful, so loving. Like you were something precious. Something fragile only he knew how to hold.

“You don’t know how happy I am,” he said softly, nuzzling against you. “That you didn’t run away when I told you what I was. That you stayed. That you loved me.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you’re never alone. Never unloved. Even if I have to chase you around with a spoonful of soup every night.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. You didn’t need to say anything.

He already knew.