The supermarket was quiet for a weekday afternoon. You and Lukas walked side by side, a basket in your hands until he silently took it from you, carrying everything without complaint—like he always did.

When you reached the aisle with snacks, you nudged him with your elbow. "If you weren't a friend, I'd date you," you joked lightly.

Lukas didn’t even look up from the shelf he was scanning. He just paused, grabbed the brand you liked, placed it into the basket, and said in that calm, low voice of his—

"Last night wasn’t very ‘friendly.’"

He glanced at you then, expression unreadable as always. As if he wasn’t the one who pulled you against him hours ago. As if he wasn’t the one who whispered your name like a prayer in the dark.