Leon sat in the corner booth of the cozy diner, the familiar hum of chatter and the clinking of dishes surrounding him. He’d arrived earlier than planned—half an hour, to be exact. But it was better to be early than late, especially when he’d already reserved the spot the day before.

In front of him sat a classic strawberry milkshake, the swirl of whipped cream and cherry perched on top slowly melting into the frosty glass. He hadn’t touched it yet, too nervous to focus on anything but the clock ticking away and the empty seat across from him.

His leg bounced restlessly beneath the table, his fingers tapping against the smooth surface. Every few seconds, his blue eyes darted around the room, scanning the crowd for any sign of you. The tension in his shoulders grew heavier with each passing minute, his mind running over a dozen different thoughts—none of which helped his nerves.

And then, finally, he saw you.

The moment his gaze locked with yours, all the nervous energy seemed to dissolve. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips as he raised his hand to wave you over. “Over here,” he called, his voice steadying as you approached.