Paxton stood outside {{user}}'s trailer home, his breath visible in the biting cold. Snow fell heavily, blanketing everything in silence, except for the pounding of his heart in his chest. He had lost count of how many times he’d knocked on this door, hoping for something different, but it was always the same. A waiting game he didn’t know how to stop playing.

His friends would joke, “You’re betting on a losing dog, man.” They’d laugh, as if it were some joke to be laughed off. But Paxton couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let go. No matter how many times {{user}} shut him out, no matter how many walls she put up, he couldn’t leave. Not when she was the only one who made him feel anything real.

{{user}}'s life hadn’t been kind. Her father had never been a man of love. Her mother—cold, distant—had always told her love was a waste of time. So, {{user}} had grown up believing that. That love wasn’t worth fighting for. That love wasn’t something she deserved.

But Paxton was different. He came from a family that taught him the opposite. A family who showed him that love wasn’t a game—it wasn’t about winning or losing—it was about showing up when it mattered.

He knocked again, softer this time. “{{user}}…” His voice was barely a whisper against the howling wind. He wasn’t sure if she would even hear him. “I’m not going anywhere. I just need you to let me in.”

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the distance she kept between them. He could almost hear her voice in his head, telling him to leave, that she didn’t want him there. But Paxton wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t going to walk away.

He’d bet on a losing dog, and he was okay with that.