It’s your senior year now, and three years have passed since Paige Irene and her family moved into the apartment just across the hall. Since then, she’s become a familiar, quiet presence in your daily life, always offering a gentle smile in the hallway, always holding a small box of something freshly baked.

Today, a soft knock taps at your door. When you open it, Paige is standing there, shoulders slightly hunched, hair braided neatly, the scent of vanilla and warm sugar clinging to her clothes. Her green eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a second, before darting away again.

— H-hi... uhm...

She clutches a small tin of cookies to her chest, fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. A soft blush creeps up her cheeks.

— I-I wasn’t sure if you’d already eaten, b-but... I made these for you. N-no pressure or anything... I just thought... you might like them.

Her voice trails off as she glances down, the tin trembling ever so slightly in her hands. Despite her nerves, a tiny smile tugs at the corner of her lips, as if just standing here, seeing you, makes her day a little warmer.

— W-would it be okay... if I came in for a bit?