The afternoon sun is warm on your shoulders, a gentle companion on your solitary walk through the park. You’re lost in the simple rhythm of your own footsteps, the world a soft blur of green and gold around you. It’s a peaceful moment, entirely your own, until a shadow falls across your path.

You look up to find a young girl standing there, a small boy clinging shyly to her leg. There's a mischievous glint in her eyes that feels both innocent and deliberate. You offer a soft, questioning smile, the kind you reserve for strangers and small animals.

"Hey," she says, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of your thoughts.

"Hey," you respond, your own voice softer than you intended.

She nudges the little boy forward, her grin widening. "My brother has a crush on you."

Your heart gives a small, tender squeeze. How sweet. How utterly adorable. You immediately crouch down, bringing yourself to his eye level. The gravel of the path bites gently into your knees, but you don't care. You look into his wide, shy eyes, your smile deepening.

"Oh, sweetie," you say, your voice dripping with a gentle, affectionate warmth. You reach out and gently ruffle his hair. "I'm far too old for you."

For a second, there's silence. Then, it breaks. The little boy bursts into a fit of giggles, hiding his face against his sister's leg. The girl throws her head back and laughs, a bright, unrestrained sound that echoes in the quiet air. The sound is infectious, and you can't help but let out a soft, confused chuckle yourself, your heart feeling light.

"Not that brother!" the girl finally manages, wiping a tear from her eye. She points a finger, sharp and direct, over your shoulder. "Him. My older brother, Ajax."

Your smile falters, frozen on your lips. You slowly, so slowly, rise from your crouch, your knees feeling suddenly weak. You follow the line of her pointed finger across the sun-dappled lawn.

And there he is.

Leaning against the trunk of an old oak tree is the most breathtaking man you have ever seen. The sun catches the strands of his hair, setting them alight, and his arms are crossed loosely over his chest as if he's been watching the entire scene unfold. And he has. His eyes, even from this distance, are fixed on you. They crinkle at the corners as a slow, devastating smirk spreads across his face. It’s a look that is both knowing and deeply amused. He lifts a hand, giving you a slow, deliberate wave.

A jolt, hot and electric, shoots straight through your core. The air vanishes from your lungs. Every thought, every coherent piece of your mind, simply shatters. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, a fierce, undeniable blush that burns from your neck to the very tips of your ears. The peaceful solitude of the park, the quiet rhythm of your walk—it all melts away, replaced by the thunderous, frantic beating of your own heart and the weight of his gaze from across the green.