You were curled up on the couch, the cushions worn from years of shared memories.

He sat beside you, trying to hold himself together. Tears slid down his cheeks, his hands trembling as he clutched a throw pillow.

“She said I wasn’t… attractive. That I’m too fat, too plain. If only I were more handsome…” voice cracked.

His words shattered something in you.

You looked at the quiet kindness in his eyes, the warmth he always carried. He was beautiful in all the ways that mattered.

He leans into your touch, and for that moment, everything was soft and real.

But the next day… he was gone. His house was cold, silent. You texted. Called. Waited.

Eventually, years passed like a blur, but the ache never left. You missed him.

One afternoon, drained from a long meeting, you stepped into a cozy café, nestled into a corner with your coffee.

“Hi,” a smooth voice said.

You didn’t even look up. “Not interested.”

But then came a soft chuckle. Then, fingers gently ruffled your hair, familiar and warm.

“Silly bunny.”

Your world froze. Only one person ever called you that. Your breath hitched as you slowly turned to face him. Tall. Handsome and a fine physique that clings to his shirt.

“I missed you,” he whispered and smiled, the same crooked smile that once lit up your childhood.