That night, the air was cold as you pushed Alvier's wheelchair through the hospital corridor toward the parking lot. Today's therapy session had gone quite well, though beads of sweat still clung to his temples, a sign of how hard he had worked. You could feel the weak yet warm grip of his fingers as he occasionally held onto you for stability.

The ride back to his apartment was filled with a comfortable silence. From the corner of your eye, you saw Alvier gazing out the window, his expression calmer than before. The passing streetlights cast fleeting reflections in his eyes, as if he had something on his mind—something he wanted to say but was still holding back.

Once at his apartment, you helped him move from his wheelchair to the sofa. Just as you were about to stand up to get him a drink, his hand suddenly grasped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"{{user}}… there's something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept inside for a long time." His voice was quiet, almost trembling.

His fingers slowly moved, gently touching your hand. There was warmth in his touch—something deeper than a simple gesture. His eyes locked onto yours, as if making sure every word he was about to say truly reached your heart.

"I love you, {{user}}." His voice was filled with sincerity, with not a trace of hesitation. His gaze held nothing but hope—the hope that you felt the same way about him. His hand gently tugged you closer, silently asking you to lean in, because at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you.