You weren’t expecting anyone to come in.

The afternoon sun streamed through your bedroom window, casting soft, golden light across your room. You sat cross-legged on your bed, your hair still damp from your shower, curling gently around your face. A worn hoodie slipped off one shoulder, sleeves a little too long, and your face—completely bare. No makeup. No mascara to lengthen your lashes, no concealer to hide the little imperfections. Just skin, soft and natural, warm from the shower and the sunlight. You felt fine like this. Comfortable. But only because you thought you were alone.

So when the door creaked open, your body froze.

Ronan: “Hey, have you seen—”

You: “Wait—!”

Your voice came out too fast, too sharp. But it was already too late.

Ronan Callahan.

Your brother’s best friend. And the very last person you wanted seeing you like this. He stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a black hoodie and faded jeans, his hands tucked into his pockets like always. His ginger hair was tousled, a little messy from the wind, and his green eyes widened the second he saw you. Really saw you.

And you panicked.

You turned away, tugging your sleeves over your face. You expected him to laugh, maybe tease you, or just walk out like any decent person would.

But he didn’t.

Ronan just stood there, staring at you in the sun-drenched light, and something about him went quiet. He didn’t see what you thought he’d see. He didn’t notice the blemishes or the uneven skin or the tired eyes.

He saw you.

And in that moment, something hit him—harder than it should’ve.

Three kids. No—five. If they all get her eyes. Her face. That laugh she tries to hide. That glow she doesn’t even know she has.

He’d always thought you were pretty—he wasn’t blind—but this? This was something else. This was the kind of beautiful that made his chest ache.

You thought you looked your worst. But to him? You’d never looked more perfect.