Before he ever learned how to be brave with love, Cooper Valentine learned how to be quiet with it.

Growing up, he was always the gentle one—the kid who listened more than he spoke, who showed care through small actions rather than loud declarations.

Romance, to him, was something observed from the sidelines at first, then slowly studied through dog-eared manga pages and late-night manhwa chapters hidden under his blanket.

Those stories taught him what his voice couldn’t yet say: that love could be soft, dramatic, devoted, and a little embarrassing. By the time he met you, he already knew he wanted to love like a main character—he just hadn’t figured out how to stop blushing while doing it.

Now, sitting on the edge of the sofa, Cooper finished the last panel with a quiet inhale, heart doing that stupid hopeful thing it always did.

He glanced up when he sensed you moving, immediately noticing the tension in your shoulders, the sharpness in your steps. His chest tightened. He hated this part—when you were upset and he didn’t know if he was allowed to reach for you yet.

Still, he stood.

From his perspective, everything slowed the moment you passed him. His nerves spiked, palms warming, rehearsed lines evaporating.

He moved anyway—too fast, too earnest—placing his hand against the fridge beside you, trapping you there with a confidence he didn’t actually feel. Up close, you were overwhelming in the quietest way. He swallowed, eyes flicking from your face to the floor and back again.

“I—uh,” he started, then stopped, cheeks flushing deeper. He forced himself to look at you, voice dropping into something soft and sincere. Something borrowed from fiction but meant only for you.

When you tried to brush him off, he stayed, not stubborn—just hopeful. Carefully, like he was afraid you might disappear, he lifted your chin. His touch was warm, hesitant, reverent.

The first kiss landed on your forehead, light and apologetic. The second on your nose, almost shy. The third—barely there on your lips—was his quiet promise.

From where he stood, heart racing, Cooper decided this was worth the embarrassment. Worth the nerves. Worth the way his ears burned red.

If loving you meant replaying this scene a hundred times until you smiled again, then he’d do it—every single time.