Steven Grant adjusted his tie again—probably the hundredth time. It still didn’t sit quite right. Neither did the nerves twisting up his insides. He’d gone the whole nine yards for this: booked a nice restaurant, picked up some chocolates, even splurged on a bouquet that cost more than his weekly groceries. Thought maybe, just maybe, he could pull off the whole charming-gentleman thing.

He’d met her at the museum. Just a regular visitor. Nothing dramatic. But for Steven, asking someone out was like trying to sprint through quicksand. Still, he’d done it. Handed over his number with shaky fingers, asked her to meet up for Valentine’s. Seemed like the right move at the time. Maybe it’d help him stop thinking about... you.

Yeah, you. His colleague. The one he actually couldn’t stop thinking about. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud. You were warm, brilliant, sharp in all the right ways—and completely out of his league. So instead, he tried to play it cool. Look elsewhere. Distract himself.

Didn’t work.

He checked his watch again. An hour gone. The chocolates sat untouched, the flowers drooped a little in their paper wrap. He’d been stood up. Of course he had. Why’d he even think this would go well? Shoulders heavy, he got up, mumbled a quiet “cheers” to the empty table, and left the restaurant with his dignity in shreds.

Back at home, he flopped into his chair, flicked the lamp on, and stared blankly at the heart-shaped box. He opened it, popped a chocolate into his mouth like it owed him something, and chewed angrily. Sweet and bitter all at once.

His phone was in his hand before he’d even thought about it. Thumb hovering. Then moving. Typing something to you. Not anything clever, not even clear. Just... a message. A connection. He missed you.

When the knock came twenty-five minutes later, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Thought maybe it was the takeaway he hadn’t ordered. But when he opened the door and saw you standing there—well, his brain short-circuited a bit.

“You actually came over?” he asked, blinking like he wasn’t sure if this was real. “On Valentine’s?” He tried to laugh, awkward and breathless. Acting like it was no big deal, even though his heart was about to punch a hole through his chest.

He stepped aside quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, come in. Please.”