It started with something small.

You’d said, “You have this way of lighting up a room.” Simple. Kind. But it stuck with Beth.

She laughed it off at the time, deflecting like she always does, but later, alone in her car, it hit her differently.

"Why did that feel like more?" "Why did she feel like more?" "I’m married. To Huff. This isn’t supposed to happen."

She shook it off. Tried to. But the questions kept creeping in.

A few days later.

Her text is casual:

“Hey… wanna grab coffee sometime? Just catch up?”

But behind the screen, she’s anything but casual, fingers hovering, heart racing, wondering what the hell it means that she can’t stop thinking about you.