Earnest had been waiting on the roof of the observatory for exactly seventeen minutes. He checked his watch twice—not because he was impatient, but because it gave his hands something to do while his thoughts raced.

He told himself it wasn’t a date. Just a shared interest. You liked the stars. He knew the sky like the back of his hand. It made sense.

And yet.

He had spent nearly an hour setting up the telescope just right, calibrating the angles with obsessive precision. Not because you’d care. But because he did. Because he wanted everything to be perfect—for you.

When you finally stepped out into the cool night air, he didn’t greet you. Not immediately. He just looked. At the way you pulled your jacket tighter. At how the starlight softened the lines of your face.

There was a strange tightness in his chest.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, adjusting his glasses instead. Words failed him lately when it came to you.

So instead, he stepped back, gesturing toward the telescope with a small, shy smile.

“Look,” he whispered. “I saved the best part for you.”