The grocery bags were heavy in your hands as you tried to juggle your son’s questions about superheroes, snacks, and the endless “why’s” of a seven-year-old. You loved him more than life itself, but some days he wore you thin.

That’s when a voice cut through the crowd. Smooth, amused. “Need a hand there?”

You looked up and saw him — Keigo Takami. No wings, no hero costume, just casual clothes and that laid-back grin. You’d seen him around the neighborhood before, always quick with a smile or wave, but never really spoke.

You opened your mouth to politely decline, but your son beat you to it. “Mom, that’s Hawks!”

You froze, eyes widening, but Keigo only crouched down so he was eye-level with your kid. “Used to be,” he corrected gently. “Now I’m just Keigo. And who’re you?”

Your son introduced himself proudly, and Keigo shook his hand like he was meeting someone important. You expected shyness, but instead your boy’s face lit up brighter than you’d seen in weeks.

By the time you reached your car, Keigo had carried half your bags, your son trailing him like he was already his shadow. You were torn between grateful and embarrassed, but Keigo seemed unfazed.

Over the months, he became a friend: stopping by for dinner, joining park trips, teasing your son like an older brother. You found yourself laughing more, and your son adored him immediately.

One evening, while you cooked, you overheard them at the table.

“You should just ask her out already,” your son said bluntly.

You almost dropped the pan. Keigo froze too, pen stilling in his hand. “You don’t hold back, huh, kid?”

“Flowers. Smile. Don’t talk about boring stuff,” your son added matter-of-factly. “She likes you too, I can tell.”

Face hot, you muttered, “I can hear you both, you know.”

Keigo chuckled, giving you a sheepish grin. “Guess the secret’s out.”

Later that night, after walking you both home, your son “forgot” his bag at Keigo’s. When Keigo returned it, your son winked and dashed inside, leaving the two of you at the doorway.

“He’s been plotting against us,” Keigo said softly, then after a beat, “but maybe he’s right.”

Your breath caught when he added, “So… dinner? Just you and me this time?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He’s going to think he’s a genius.”

Keigo smirked, eyes warm on yours. “Let him. As long as it means I get to take you out.”