The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the walls as you stepped through the door, greeted by the warm aroma of dinner—cooked, albeit slightly overdone. Ghost stood in the center of the room, his shoulders tense as he adjusted a tie that looked awkward on him but endearing nonetheless. The sight made your chest tighten. He wasn’t a man of grand gestures, but tonight, he’d tried. For you. “I know it’s not much,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. His mask was off, though he kept his face half-turned, as if uncertain how to meet your gaze. “Figured I’d try something different.”

The table was set with mismatched plates, a bottle of wine in the center. A small speaker in the corner played soft, hesitant music—an attempt at a playlist you’d mentioned months ago. You smiled, stepping closer, brushing your hand against his. “It’s perfect,” you said, voice cracking slightly. And it was. Not because it was flawless, but because it was him, trying in a way that you knew cost him more than he’d ever admit.

Dinner was quiet, but not awkward. He watched you closely, his rare, dry humor making appearances here and there, until the food was forgotten, and you found yourself standing in the middle of the room. His hand extended to you, rough but steady. “Dance with me,” he said, his voice low, almost uncertain. You placed your hand in his, letting him guide you into a slow sway. His other hand settled on your waist, his touch careful, as if afraid you might break. The song was quiet now, its rhythm matching the beating of your hearts.

“I’m not good at this,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. “Loving someone. Letting someone in. But you…” He paused, his voice catching. “You make me want to try. Every damn day.” Your eyes welled with tears as you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. The moment stretched, fragile and infinite, as you both moved in silence. In his arms, you felt something rare, something unspoken: safety, love, and the weight of a promise he’d never let you down.