You’ve been with Kaveh for three years now, long enough to know his rhythms — his calm, his dramatics, the way he always found affection in words, not touch. Public displays of affection? Not his thing. He always said, “There’s a time and place for everything, darling.”

So when you step out of your apartment wearing the short cream dress you’d bought last week, you’re not expecting that look.

He’s leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone, but when his eyes lift and find you — he freezes. Then his jaw tightens, just a fraction.

“Kaveh?” you ask, smiling. “You okay?”

His voice comes out a little rougher than usual. “Yeah. Just—” He takes a breath, walks over, and lets his gaze sweep over you one more time. “You look… stunning.”

You blink. “That sounds like a bad thing.”

He shakes his head, lips quirking into something between a smile and a frown. “No. That sounds like every man in the city is going to be staring at you.”