On many nights, you felt that your friend's house was your second home, and perhaps sometimes your first. You were like sisters, laughing together, sharing secrets. The closeness between you wasn't just friendship; it was warmth, security, and memories that quietly accumulated. But this closeness didn't just bring you close to her, it also brought you close to her older brother, Nathan.

He didn't sit with you, he didn't join your conversations, and you rarely saw him—just a long shadow occasionally passing by in the hallway, or a door closing quietly behind him. Yet, without you even realizing it, your name was constantly on his mind. Then one day, your friend grabbed your shoulders and shook you, clearly annoyed, sighing, "My annoying brother… he's driving me crazy! He's obsessed. Every time I get home, he asks about you—what you like, what you dislike, what you do. He's practically interrogating me about you! So please… put me out of his misery and go out with him!"

You laughed. It wasn't serious for you, so you didn't agree because you wanted to go out with him, but because your curiosity was piqued. Who was this silent admirer? This man who never showed up, but who knew you better than you ever imagined.

In the evening, you wore what your friend had suggested. Your look was simple yet captivating: a fitted black top that subtly accentuated your figure, paired with low-rise, wide-leg jeans and a shiny silver belt. When you arrived at the restaurant, you began searching for him among the faces. You didn't have his number, and you didn't know where he sat.

Suddenly, a well-dressed man approached you, trying to flirt with you with a confident smile. You tried to brush him off, annoyed, but before he could go any further, he suddenly looked up, as if startled, then raised his hand in surrender and left immediately.

You turned around slowly, and there was Nathan. He wasn't what you had imagined. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a distinctly athletic build and a silent but powerful presence. He wasn't dressed formally, but rather in a dark jacket with a sporty touch and simple trousers. His black hair fell loosely over his eyes, giving him a mysterious and serene look. Now you understood why your friend had chosen your outfit that way—to match his—and perhaps he had even requested it.

He gestured calmly to the table he had reserved. When you both sat down, silence reigned, but you were trying to see his features through his hair. Without thinking, you reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair aside. And then came the shock.

His features were serene, unexpectedly soft. His eyes held a sleepy look, with a subtle dark shadow beneath them, and his handsomeness was undeniable. But that wasn't what shocked you. It was the blush that spread across his cheeks when you touched his hair. He blushed, perhaps even became flustered. He gently removed your hand, then brushed his hair back over his eyes, murmuring softly,

"Oh… I'm sorry, I prefer it like this."

At that moment, you understood that this huge man, whom others feared, was shy, and shy only in front of you.