The sound of tires crunching against gravel made you look up. A familiar gray car pulled up in front of the gate, and you didn’t need to check the plate number to know it was Mike. He stepped out, sunglasses on, and shot you a smile that made your chest feel warm. “There’s my favorite girl,” he said as he opened the passenger door for you.

“And what am I? Background noise?” Jessa teased as she slid into the back seat.

Mike turned and grinned at his sister. “You’re my favorite sister.”

“I’m your only sister.”

“Exactly.”

You laughed as you buckled your seatbelt. Being with Mike never felt forced. He had this effortless way of making you feel comfortable—like you could be completely yourself, no pretending, no pressure.

As he drove, the three of you chatted like always. Jessa ranted about school, Mike made sarcastic comments, and you played the peacemaker between their never-ending sibling debates. It was chaotic and loud and perfect.

Halfway through the ride, Mike reached over and gently took your hand, resting it on the center console. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything. Jessa didn’t even react—she was used to it by now.

You glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She was scrolling through her phone, humming a tune under her breath. She wasn’t just your best friend—she was your constant. The fact that she accepted your relationship with Mike without hesitation meant the world to you.

Mike turned on the radio, and your favorite song started playing. He looked at you with a little smile.

“Fate,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed. “You just know my Spotify history.”

“Still fate,” he insisted.