Jason had always been very observant.

He noticed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was focused, how her eyes sparkled just a little more when she talked about something she loved. She could go on for hours, jumping from one thought to another like her mind was always running faster than her words—and he never missed a thing.

Most people would get lost in the flood of her excitement, but not Jason. He listened, really listened. It was never background noise to him. He cataloged every detail like it mattered, because to him, it did. Her favorite kind of tea. The way her fingers fidgeted when she was anxious. The exact playlist she liked to play when she cleaned on Sunday mornings. He noticed the smallest things.

He remembered the first time she fell asleep on his chest. She had been talking about some book she was obsessed with—halfway through a sentence, her words slowed, slurred, and then stopped altogether. Jason didn’t move. He just wrapped his arms around her a little tighter and listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing. Even in sleep, she was talking to him in her own way.

He never said much about how deeply he paid attention. He just showed it—in the way he'd have her favorite takeout on the table after a long shift, or the way he'd pull her gently away from a crowded room when he saw her anxiety beginning to flare. She never had to ask. He already knew.