“You forgot your charger again.”

You glanced up from your cluttered desk to see Samuel standing at the door of your small shop, holding the familiar cord like it was some kind of sacred ritual. He didn’t look annoyed, just… amused. Like he always was when it came to you.

You rolled your eyes but reached out to take it. “Thanks, Mom.”

Samuel grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Someone’s gotta keep you alive.”

You scoffed, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. This was normal—expected, even. Samuel had always been like this. Quietly dependable. Gentle without needing to be asked. He never made a show of it, never made you feel like you owed him anything.

It was always just… him.

From fixing your shelves after you accidentally dropped a heavy box on them, to showing up at closing time with your favorite food when you insisted you weren’t hungry—Samuel had this way of being there before you even realized you needed someone. And you? You’d always been proud of handling things on your own. Strong. Independent. No one ever had to take care of you.

But Samuel did anyway.

He didn’t do it out of pity or to feel important. He did it like it was the most natural thing in the world. As if loving someone didn’t mean overpowering them, but quietly standing beside them.

You remembered the way he draped a blanket over your shoulders when you’d dozed off while organizing inventory late one night. How he always remembered to bring your tea exactly the way you liked it—honey, no sugar, just the tiniest splash of lemon. You’d told him once, years ago, in passing. He never forgot.

Still, you’d never said anything about it. Neither had he.

It was just… Samuel. And you. And the rhythm of something unspoken.

Then one evening, while catching up with your best friend at a cozy café downtown, they stirred their iced latte and gave you a look. One of those knowing, smug ones.

“You and Samuel are so disgustingly in love, it hurts.”

You blinked, nearly choking on your drink. “What? No—we’re just… friends.”

They raised an eyebrow. “He treats you like royalty. And you look at him like the moon hung just for him. You really don’t see it?”

You opened your mouth to argue. Closed it. Because suddenly your heart felt like it had skipped a beat.

And just like that, something shifted. Not in the world. But in you.