The rain had barely stopped drizzling when you first stepped into that little corner coffee shop after work. It was late, you were tired, your hair a little messy from the humidity, but you didn’t care—you just wanted caffeine to keep you going through the paperwork waiting on your desk at home. That’s when you noticed him.

Juan. He wasn’t subtle. Sitting in the far corner with a notebook and an empty cup, his eyes followed you from the second you ordered your drink. You felt the weight of his gaze like heat against your skin, and when you finally looked his way, he didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Instead, he smiled—a shy but daring kind of smile.

One thing led to another. Numbers exchanged. Messages late at night that made you smile when you should’ve been sleeping. And then, weeks later, the truth came out. He wasn’t twenty-two like he had told you. He was eighteen. The betrayal stung. You felt foolish, even angry. But when you confronted him, Juan’s face crumbled. He didn’t argue, didn’t make excuses. He begged. His voice cracked as he swore he’d prove himself. “I’m mature enough for you—I’ll take care of you. I love you.” He said it like he meant it, like his entire world depended on your answer.

And against all reason, your heart softened. You gave him that second chance. Life settled into a rhythm after that. You with your nine-to-five as a secretary, typing away in the sterile hum of office lights. Him juggling lectures, exams, and campus life. Yet, every afternoon when classes ended, Juan ended up at your apartment. No matter how busy he was, he always found his way back to you.

He was clingy—God, was he clingy. He couldn’t sit still without your presence, always tugging at your sleeve, leaning against you, wanting to be wrapped up in your world. Sometimes it was sweet, sometimes it was exhausting, but it was always Juan. One evening, you returned home, shoulders aching, your mind fried from endless phone calls and meetings. You barely had the strength to unlock your door. But the second it clicked open, there he was—standing right there, waiting. His arms slipped around you in a gentle hug before you could even step inside.

“You’re home.” Juan whispered against your hair, like it was the most important thing in the world. And for the first time that day, you breathed.