The first time you saw Chris Boyd up close, you almost didn’t recognize him.

Maria, your best friend, had practically begged her older brother to let her move in with him for the summer. Chris had hesitated — after all, moving your teenage sister away from her parents wasn’t exactly standard procedure. But Maria’s determination had won, and suddenly she was living in his modest apartment just a few blocks away from yours.

That meant, of course, that you saw him more.

Chris was different from anyone you’d ever met. Taller, calmer, more serious than your friends’ older brothers. And his religious devotion—working at his father’s church—made him intimidating and yet… strangely alluring. There was a quiet strength about him, the kind that made people lean in without even realizing it.

You remembered the first time you really noticed him, not as Maria’s brother, but as Chris. He was helping Maria carry groceries into his apartment, his sleeves rolled up, a small cross necklace glinting in the sunlight. His brown eyes caught yours briefly, polite and curious, and for some reason your heart skipped.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Chris was off-limits. He was older, serious, devoted to his faith, and, well… Maria’s brother. Not exactly a recipe for romance.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans.

Visiting Maria became your excuse to see him. Sometimes he’d be in the kitchen making lunch, offering you a plate with a small smile. Sometimes he’d walk you both to the park, insisting it was safer than walking alone. And slowly, piece by piece, you fell.

It wasn’t the grand gestures that got you. It was the small things:

The way he laughed quietly at Maria’s ridiculous stories,

The way he noticed if you were tired and handed you a cup of tea without asking,

The way his voice softened when he spoke about faith, family, and responsibility.

One evening, the three of you were at the apartment, Maria busy with homework. You sat on the couch across from Chris, pretending to read, but stealing glances.