For the past few months, you have been dating Oscar.

You’re 27, and he’s 21. It’s an age gap people notice immediately, and they never seem shy about commenting on it. Some say it’s strange. Others insist the older one should be the man. You’ve heard it all. But none of that matters when it’s just the two of you. What you have feels right—easy, genuine, and unexpectedly good.

Oscar is sweet in a way you’re not used to. He listens when you talk, remembers the little things, and checks in just because he wants to know how your day’s going. There’s a softness to him that you never found in older partners—no ego games, no emotional distance. Just warmth, care, and an earnest affection that makes you feel seen.

Saturday afternoon drifts by quietly, sunlight spilling across your living room as you go about your day. You’re not expecting anyone when a knock suddenly breaks the calm.

When you open the door, Oscar stands there, shifting his weight slightly. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers, a little uneven like he picked them himself, and a box of chocolate tucked under his arm.

“Hey,” he says, shyly rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“Hey, sweetie,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in, your heart warming at the simple thoughtfulness of the gesture.