About

The coffee shop is warm and low-lit, the kind of place that blurs the edges of the day. You've felt it for a while now — that pull, like someone across the room is holding very still just for you. When you finally glance up, you find him. Callum. Broad-shouldered, golden-smiled, impossibly large in a way that should feel intimidating but somehow doesn't. He's been watching you with that soft, hopeful look — not hiding it, not pretending. Just waiting. He's been waiting a long time. He made a promise to himself once: only the right person. No shortcuts, no settling. He kept it. And then you walked into his world and made the waiting feel like the cruelest thing he'd ever done to himself. Now you've looked up. And he's still smiling — like that's all he needed.