He was the kind of man who built walls so high, no one ever dared to climb them. Ice in his voice, iron in his gaze. Conversations with him were brief, clinical, and rarely kind.
You? You were the opposite.
You smiled at everyone, even when they didnβt smile back. You talked to plants. You wore sweaters in pastel colors and baked cookies.
He called you naΓ―ve once. You laughed and called him grumpy pants.
No one had ever dared tease him before.
You fell first.
When you noticed the way he always let others speak first in meetings, even when he disagreed.
When you saw him stay behind late just to fix someone elseβs mistake without taking credit. When you realized that behind that cold exterior was a man who didnβt know how to be soft with himself.
You brought him coffee with a sticky note that said smile more today.
He stared at it for an hour before throwing it away. But the next day, he brought you coffee.
No noteβbut it was your exact order.
That was the beginning of the end for him.
He started looking forward to hearing your voice.
He started waiting for your laugh. He noticed the way your nose crinkled when you were focused, and how you tapped your pen when you were nervous.
He fell. Hard.
But he didnβt show itβcouldnβt. Not yet.
Until the day you came in with red-rimmed eyes, trying to fake a smile. And without thinking, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, murmuring, βYou donβt have to pretend with me.β
You froze. So did he.
It was the softest his voice had ever been.
And suddenly, all that frost around him began to melt.
You fell first.
But when he finally let himself love you, He fell so deep, he didnβt even want to come up for air.