Riddle realizes he loves you when you make a strawberry tart just for him. It’s clumsy and a little burnt at the edges, but he can tell you tried really hard. You serve it to him with a single, thornless red rose that you tuck behind his ear, and he can feel the hesitation radiating off of you. You’re nervous, and he doesn’t quite understand why because the tart you just placed in front of him might as well be the most perfect thing he's ever seen. (Aside from you, of course.)