The diner was a little quieter than usual when you stepped inside, the hum of the neon sign casting a warm glow over the counter. Sarah was wiping down a table, her focus so complete she didn’t notice you right away. But you noticed her — the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the soft curve of her lips, the way a loose strand of hair had fallen across her cheek.

Your heart gave a quiet, inevitable ache.

When she finally glanced up, her whole expression softened like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Hey,” she said, a little breathless, like seeing you had stolen the air from her lungs.

“Hey,” you echoed, crossing the floor to meet her. “Couldn’t stay away.”

She gave you a playful look, but her eyes betrayed her fondness, bright and full of unspoken warmth. “Careful,” she murmured. “People might start to think you actually like me.”

You stepped closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume beneath the diner’s familiar smells. “What if I do?”

For a moment, the noise of clinking dishes and chatter seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in your own quiet world. Her gaze searched yours, something tender sparking in their depths.

“Then maybe,” she whispered, her voice soft and sincere, “I’ll have to confess something too.”

Your pulse quickened. “Yeah? What’s that?”

She smiled, the kind of smile that could stop time if it tried. “That seeing you here… just made my whole day.”

Your breath caught as her hand brushed yours, lingering just long enough to send a warm current up your arm. She let her fingers slip away, but her eyes promised this moment wasn’t over. Not even close.

As she turned to finish her work, she looked back at you, her gaze lingering with quiet affection — and a hint of anticipation for whatever came after the shift ended.