“I love you, {{user}}…”

Noah’s voice lingered in the silence of the room, heavy and raw with emotion. His hand wrapped around your wrist, fingers firm but trembling, as he sat up against the pillows. The dim light of the bedside lamp cast shadows across his bare shoulders, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The unspoken rules were clear—this was about need, nothing more. No strings, no confessions, no messy feelings. Yet here he was, eyes fixed on you, the vulnerability in his words threatening everything.

Your pulse raced as you looked away, focusing on anything but him—the discarded shirt on the floor, the soft wrinkle of the blanket draped over his legs, the flickering light and the sound of thunder outside his window as the rain poured. The air felt charged, suffocating, as if the room itself was waiting for your response.

Now he goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like.. I love you.