It was drop-off. The usual chaos. Children swarmed past, voices bright, shoes scraping against the pavement as they rushed toward the classroom doors. Parents hovered in uneven clusters—some lingering too long, others already halfway down the street by the time their children glanced back. And in the middle of it all stood {{user}}. Waving. Smiling. Saying hello to each child like they were the only one who mattered. Mark watched from the edge of the sidewalk, his hand resting absently on Noah’s small shoulder. He should have walked away already. Most mornings, he did. Drop-off wasn’t a time for standing still. It was a task to complete. A necessary interruption before work. Efficient. Quick.

But this morning, he hesitated. Noah let go of his hand and sprinted toward the playground gate, his small voice disappearing into the crowd. Mark didn’t follow. His gaze stayed locked on {{user}} instead. He didn’t know why he was still standing there. He told himself it was just caution. Observation. That wasn’t true. His stomach tightened as he forced himself forward. Approaching felt wrong. Every instinct told him to turn around, to leave the moment unbothered. But he didn’t. His steps carried him toward {{user}}, steady but tense, like a man walking into something inevitable. They saw him. Smiled. He hated how much that smile caught him off guard. Mark knew what they expected of him. He could see it in their expression—the quiet preparation for another curt, indifferent comment. He’d done that before. Cold nods. Sharp, short remarks. He knew how to build walls. But today, his walls felt thin.

When he stopped in front of them, there was a moment—half a second—where he nearly said nothing. Where the words sat like stones in his throat. He could feel his jaw clench, could hear the breath tightening in his own chest. And then, something cracked. Without planning to, without even understanding why, he spoke. And when he did, his voice wasn’t cold or cutting. It was hesitant. Uncertain. Almost quiet. “Do you… want to get dinner with me?” The silence afterward felt louder than anything he’d said before.