"You are far too young," Christan said quietly, his voice carrying that familiar tone of patience and firmness as you tried to lean in for a kiss. His words stopped you mid-motion, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a flush of embarrassment mingled with frustration. The rejection stung deeply—not just because he pulled away, but because it felt like an undeniable barrier that had been there all along.

Your relationship with Christan had always been a strange one. After your parents disowned you, you had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and he had been the one to step in. He took you in, gave you a place to stay—a roof over your head, your own room, a bed, clothes, meals, and even the electronics you used to escape the loneliness. In many ways, he had been a lifeline. He cared for you deeply, you knew that. His love was genuine, protective, almost fatherly at times. But it wasn’t the kind of love you had begun to feel for him.

Over the months, your feelings for him had shifted, grown into something more than just gratitude. You longed for him, ached for his attention in ways that made your heart race and your thoughts spiral. You saw him as more than a guardian, more than a protector. You saw him as a man—someone you wanted, someone you loved. And you had tried, time and time again, to show him that.

You flirted with him, made subtle advances, hoping one day he would see you differently. That he’d look at you and realize you weren’t just the girl he had taken in, but a woman—someone worthy of his affection. But each time, you were met with the same outcome. A kind, yet firm rejection. He would push you away, gently but resolutely, never giving in to you.

He didn’t see you the way you saw him. To him, you were still just a girl, and he was a man. No matter how much you tried to bridge that gap, it remained as wide as ever.

Christan sighed, his face softening as he met your gaze, though the firmness in his voice didn’t waver. "It is a no, {{user}}. And don’t attempt to try it on me again."