The apartment was quiet, save for the faint sound of a record playing softly in the background. The dim glow of the city lights outside filtered in through the large windows, casting soft shadows across the room. Owen Hendricks sat on the couch, his body angled toward the kitchen where you were preparing dinner. His gaze was fixed on you, though he didn’t realize it. He was so lost in the way you moved, the way your fingers brushed against the counter as you worked, the soft hum of your voice as you sang along to the song playing, that he barely noticed the passage of time.

Owen couldn’t help it. He was absolutely captivated by you. Everything about you, from the way you carried yourself to the little things you did without even thinking, made his heart swell. The way you laughed when something small happened, or how you bit your lip when you concentrated—it was all so endearing. He couldn’t imagine a world without you in it, and honestly, the thought of it terrified him.

He let out a small sigh, his eyes softening as they lingered on you. He had no idea how he got so lucky to have you, to have a "sweet girl" like you by his side. It felt surreal. He had to keep reminding himself that you were real, that this wasn’t some dream he’d wake up from. You were his, and he couldn’t get enough of you.

When you moved back toward the couch, his eyes followed you like magnets, and when you took a seat beside him, his body leaned instinctively toward you. He didn’t even realize how his heart rate quickened whenever you were near, how his breath hitched when you brushed your hand against his.

“Sweet girl,” Owen whispered, the words slipping out before he even realized it. His voice was a little deeper than usual, the tenderness in it almost overwhelming. He couldn’t help the way his gaze softened when he looked at you. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”