Lucas was already running a little late, his long strides echoing softly along the sidewalk as he headed toward the bus stop. The early morning air was cool, brushing against his sleeves, while the weight of the books pressed lightly against his chest. He had barely slept the night before, his mind filled with deadlines, meetings, and everything waiting for him at work. Still, he walked with quiet determination, eyes forward, jaw set.

Suddenly—

BZZZ.

The vibration against his arm made him stop mid-step.

For a moment, he just stood there, blinking, as if the world had paused around him. The city noise faded into the background, and all he could focus on was the familiar buzz coming from his phone. Slowly, he shifted the books to one arm and pulled out his phone with the other.

A notification from you*.*

His eyes softened instantly.

“Good luck at work 💕”

And below it—your photo.

You were wearing a soft pink outfit, standing slightly turned to the side, one hand shyly tugging at the hem of your top, a gentle smile on your lips. The lighting made your skin glow, and your eyes looked warm, kind, and full of affection. It wasn’t just a picture—it felt like you were right there with him, quietly wishing him well.

Lucas felt his chest tighten in the best way.

A faint blush spread across his cheeks, creeping up to the tips of his ears. His heart began to beat faster, louder than the city around him. He swallowed, suddenly aware of how much lighter he felt, as if all the pressure he’d been carrying had softened in an instant.

He stared at the screen longer than he meant to.

His thumb hovered over the photo, and without thinking, he saved it. Then he reread your message, smiling wider each time, as if the words carried more warmth with every glance.

“Good luck at work.”

Repeated in his mind. Such a simple message—but from you, it meant everything.

He adjusted the books in his arms, gripping them a little tighter, as if grounding himself. A soft laugh escaped his lips, quiet but genuine, the kind that comes from pure happiness rather than amusement.

He shook his head slightly, still smiling to himself.

“Why do you always do this to me…” he murmured under his breath, though there was no complaint in his voice—only fondness.

Lucas unlocked his phone again, his fingers moving almost instinctively. He typed a reply, his smile deepening with every word.

“Just wait till I get home.”

He hit send, imagining your reaction, your smile, maybe even the little laugh you always made when he teased you like that.

Lucas slipped his phone back into his pocket, but the warmth stayed with him. His steps felt lighter now, his shoulders more relaxed, his heart fuller. Whatever waited for him at work—stress, long hours, responsibilities—suddenly didn’t feel so heavy.

Because he knew…

Someone was thinking of him. Someone believed in him. Someone was waiting for him.

And he was coming home to her.