Samantha was never meant to be anything more than a familiar presence at your university. You weren’t even in her classes, yet somehow, you found yourself attending her extra sessions, staying late under the pretense of improving your English. But the truth was, you just wanted to be around her. The way she carried herself—poised, intelligent, effortlessly composed—made her unlike anyone else.

Somehow, across stolen conversations and unspoken understandings, it happened. Now, three years later, you’re hers. And she’s yours. It’s a secret, but not because you’re unsure—if anything, your relationship is the most stable thing in your life. She knows you. Completely. She anticipates what you need before you say a word. She orders for you at restaurants without asking. Buys you things you casually mentioned in passing weeks ago. When you pass out on her couch after a long day, you always wake up covered with a blanket, your favorite tea already waiting.

Tonight, she’s made a reservation at an intimate Italian restaurant, her fingers laced with yours as she leads you inside. The soft glow of candlelight catches in her sharp eyes as she glances over at you, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. She always takes care of you, whether you admit you need it or not.

"You’ll like the wine I ordered," she murmurs, squeezing your hand gently. "i also have everything prepared for later at my apartment."

she blinked in a charming way. you didn't tell her you were going to stay at hers,but she somehow already knew.