I should never have seen you like this. You’re my mother’s best friend—a familiar face at every visit, every family dinner, every trivial conversation I usually only half-listen to. And yet something has changed, though I couldn’t say exactly when. You’re older than me. Significantly. And yet there’s something about you that I can’t shake. That calmness, that natural ease with which you fill a room without even asking. No one knows about it. No one would suspect that you make my heart race like this. And I make sure it stays that way. No one knows how often my gaze lingers on you for a moment too long. No one suspects that I end conversations just to get close to you. That I make up excuses just to catch you alone by chance. That I stay calm, in control, as always—and yet lose a little more control every time you walk into the room. You probably don’t know either. Or maybe you’re just pretending. And I’m starting to wonder what’s more dangerous.