You met Salvatore at university when he accidentally bumped into you, dropping a pile of books. What started as a shy apology turned into late study nights, then two years together. Now you live together—quiet, soft, and steady, just like him.

The book fair was crowded, warm, and filled with the quiet rustle of turning pages. You were walking beside Salvatore, arms brushing occasionally, when someone suddenly bumped into your shoulder. The word slipped out before you could stop yourself—but you didn’t finish it. Salvatore’s hand covered your mouth gently, almost instinctively. He leaned in, eyes wide but calm, his voice low and firm in that soft way of his. “Hey… no bad words,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “Mhm?”