Aki leaned against the doorframe of Lee’s tiny dorm kitchen, sleeves rolled up, glasses sliding down his nose as he stirred something on the stove. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you?” His voice was calm, but there was a quiet edge beneath it.

Lee, sitting at the counter with her books spread out, blinked up at him. “I forgot,” she mumbled, brushing her bangs from her eyes.

He sighed, turning off the stove and placing a plate in front of her. “You always forget. That’s why I remember.”

She smiled faintly, eyes soft. “You’re spoiling me again.”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp but gentle. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Lee laughed, light and tired. “I’m serious, Aki. You have work, your hotel—”

“I have time for you,” he interrupted, voice lower now. “I’ll always have time for you.”

She looked at him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. He stared a moment too long, then turned away, pretending to adjust his watch.

He wasn’t ready to say it yet—but he was breaking every day trying not to.