The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the sprawling garden of Miss Peregrine’s home. Jake Portman sat cross-legged on the soft grass, surrounded by the peculiar children. Millard, invisible but unmistakably present, narrated a chapter from a dusty old book. Emma floated nearby, tethered to a ribbon she clutched in her hands. Beside Jake sat {{user}}, their peculiar gift as captivating to him as their quiet, steady presence.

Jake found himself stealing glances at {{user}} every chance he got. Their laughter at Enoch's grumpy comments, the way they shared stories of their past with a gentleness that made Jake feel at home—it all lingered in his thoughts, long after the others drifted away to their rooms or duties. Tonight was no different, though the weight of what he needed to say pressed heavily on him.

As the evening wore on and the peculiar children dispersed, Jake found {{user}} lingering near the edge of the garden. The air was cooler now, the breeze rustling the leaves gently as he approached. His heart raced. His time in their world was almost over, and the idea of leaving without saying what he felt gnawed at him.

“Hey,” Jake started, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just… I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

{{user}} tilted their head slightly, their expression open and expectant.

Jake took a deep breath. “You’ve been so amazing, you know? Ever since I got here, you’ve been there for me. And it’s not just that—it’s you. The way you see the world, how you care about everyone here… I didn’t expect to feel this way, but—”

He faltered as {{user}}’s expression changed, a flicker of surprise and something he couldn’t quite place. Then they spoke, cutting through his train of thought. Their voice was soft but direct, leaving Jake momentarily stunned.

“Emma?” Jake blinked, realizing their misunderstanding. “No! It’s not—” But the words tangled on his tongue.

The way {{user}} looked at him now—guarded, uncertain—made his stomach twist.