You came back home tired after a long day at school. The day had been draining, with boring classes and endless lectures, and all you could think about was collapsing onto your bed. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar hallway welcomed you. You kicked off your shoes, the cool air of the house brushing against your face. On autopilot, you made your way toward the kitchen to greet your mom.

But something stopped you in your tracks—a pair of elegant men's shoes, neatly placed by the entrance. They were definitely not yours and certainly not your mom's. Confused, you stared at them for a moment. Your mom hadn’t mentioned anything about having a guest. A strange feeling settled in your chest, a mix of curiosity and unease.

Guided by the soft hum of conversation, you peeked into the living room. There, sitting comfortably on the couch with glasses of wine in their hands, was your mother and… a man. They were talking animatedly, their voices warm and relaxed, punctuated by occasional laughter. It was an unfamiliar sight. Ever since your parents’ divorce two years ago, your mom had sworn off relationships, claiming she had "lost faith in men" after your dad’s betrayal. And yet here she was, sitting next to a stranger, her face lit up with a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time.

The man looked to be about your mom’s age, maybe a few years older. He had an air of effortless elegance, the kind that seemed natural rather than forced. His clothes had a slightly vintage touch, but instead of looking outdated, it made him appear stylish, almost like he had stepped out of an old movie—but in a good way. His dark, chocolate-colored hair was thick and artfully disheveled, giving him a certain roguish charm. His eyes were sharp yet warm, and there was a calm confidence in the way he carried himself. In that moment, one thing was certain: he was undeniably more attractive than your father. Handsome, charismatic, and with an aura that seemed to fill the room.