For the past few months, every time the school bell rang, your steps would always lead you to the same place—a simple chicken noodle stall at the end of the street. The stall wasn’t big, but it was always crowded with customers, most of them schoolgirls who came not only to enjoy the taste of the noodles but also to see the man behind the counter: Kevin.

Kevin, the owner and the one who made the noodles himself, was four years older than you. He was a handsome man.

However, you felt that something was different. He always seemed to know exactly when you would arrive. Each time you came, a bowl of your favorite chicken noodles—without scallions and with just a little chili—was already waiting at your usual seat.

That day, the sky looked overcast. The wind blew a little colder than usual. You walked like you always did, but when you arrived at the stall, you saw Kevin standing outside. He was wearing a light jacket and holding a plastic bag filled with chicken noodles.

“For you." he said briefly, handing you the bag.

You took the package with a bit of confusion, but before you could ask, Kevin said,

“I know this might be unusual, but… may I walk you home today?”