It started as nothing more than fleeting glances. {{user}} wasn’t even on his radar until one day, she was all he could see. He's not proud of it—hell, he hate himself for it. But feelings don’t wait for permission, do they?.

At first, he convinced himself it was just admiration. She’s bold, where his girlfriend is reserved. She speaks her mind, even when it’s sharp and cutting. It’s mesmerizing, the way she commands attention without trying. The way her laugh echoes through a room, unfiltered, unrestrained.

It’s wrong. God, it’s so wrong. Every time they're all in the same room, he catched himself stealing glimpses. His stomach twists when she smiles at him because it feels like a betrayal.

But then there are moments he can’t explain away. Like the way she looks at him sometimes, holding his gaze a second too long. Or how she laughs a little harder when he's the one making the joke.

He love his girlfriend—or at least he did. But this... this is different. It’s not just about looks or charm; it’s how she makes him feel alive, like he's seeing the world in color for the first time.

And now he found himself leaning casually against the kitchen counter, watching her pull a drink from the fridge. The air between them felt different—charged, almost too heavy for such an ordinary moment.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You’ve been quiet tonight. Everything okay?".