The clink of silverware and soft hum of jazz wrapped around the velvet-lit room like a silk scarf. Golden chandeliers hung above in a soft glow, painting the white linens in warmth and making the wine glasses sparkle like tiny stars. You adjusted your sleeve nervously, only to look up and see Joshua already standing—pulling your chair out with that calm, polished grace he always seemed to carry.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, not dramatically, not for show—just simple, honest, and somehow still enough to make your breath hitch.

He was dressed in a navy suit, sharp and understated, a delicate silver watch on his wrist and that quiet confidence in the way he held himself. The kind of man who didn’t need to try hard to look like he belonged in a place like this—he just did.

As you sat, he smiled softly and took the seat across from you. The candle between you flickered gently, dancing in his eyes.

“I hope you're hungry,” he teased. “I may or may not have read the entire wine and dessert menu before you even got here.”

You laughed, and he tilted his head with that familiar fondness—the one that made it feel like no matter how noisy the world got, this little bubble was only for the two of you. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers laced as he studied you like a favorite painting.

“I missed you today,” he said gently. “Let’s not talk about anything heavy tonight. Just you, me, and this ridiculous crème brûlée we’re definitely ordering later.”