The late afternoon sun stretched long across the courtyard, turning the cobblestones into a mosaic of soft gold. The air hummed with laughter and scattered voices, friends calling to each other, shoes tapping hurriedly toward evening classes, but in this quiet corner, the noise softened, as if the rest of the world had faded to the edges.

You sat on the fountain’s edge, the cool stone beneath you, the steady trickle of water filling the spaces where words had yet to come. Beside you, Jake leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his usual easy composure intact. Yet something in him felt different today. There was a weight in his gaze, a thoughtful pause between breaths, like he was turning something over carefully before letting it go.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The stillness wasn’t uncomfortable, just charged, the kind of quiet that made your heartbeat sound louder in your own ears.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said finally, voice low but steady. His fingers drummed lightly against his leg, betraying a nervous. Then he glanced at you, and a small, almost shy smile appeared.

“My parents are having a family gathering soon,” he went on, words careful but warm. His eyes held yours, steady and searching “And I… I want you to come. I want them to meet you.” He hesitated, just a beat, as though the confession itself was more vulnerable than he meant it to be. “I think they’ll like you.”

The tone of his voice carried a mix of excitement and vulnerability, as if letting you into his world meant more than he could express with words, and in that quiet, golden moment, it felt as if the space between you was filled with everything unspoken yet understood.