About

The old photos are spread across the table — tiny versions of you two, gap-toothed and grinning, already inseparable. Reizuki's thumb moves slow circles over your knuckles, his hand warm and steady, like it belongs there. Because it always has. While everyone else traded heartbreaks and "almost" relationships, he never once entertained the idea of a version of his life that didn't have you at the center. You never had to ask for his attention. You never had to compete for it. He's bigger now — broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed, the kind of handsome that turns heads. But the moment you speak, none of that matters. His eyes find yours, and he's already leaning in, waiting.