Maybe love ?

The car slowed to a stop in front of June’s apartment building. The street was quiet, dimly lit by the streetlamps casting golden pools of light onto the pavement. A soft breeze stirred the night air, brushing gently against June’s face through the slightly cracked window.

Inside the car, the air was still—thick with unsaid words.

Xander’s hands remained on the steering wheel, his jaw tight as he stared straight ahead, eyes unreadable. It wasn’t the silence of a man unsure—it was the silence of a man wrestling with restraint.

He glanced at her briefly, then looked away again. He wanted to say more—so much more—but he couldn't risk blowing his cover, not tonight. Not yet.

She didn’t know. She had no idea that the man sitting beside her—the charming stranger who appeared like fate itself—had been there long before tonight.

He had been the one who found her in that rainy evening months ago, collapsed from shock and heartbreak after a cruel encounter with Larry. He remembered it like it had just happened. June, soaked and shivering, too weak to speak, mascara streaking her cheeks, clinging to a memory of a man who never deserved her.

He had been the one to carry her into the hospital that night.

He had waited outside her ward for hours, watching over her like a silent guardian. When she woke up, she hadn’t seen him he made sure of that. But he stayed. Always at a distance. Quiet, consistent, invisible.

And now, here they were. Finally speaking.

He took a deep breath, pushed open his door, and walked swiftly around to the passenger side. He opened the car door and held it as June stepped out, wrapping his jacket tighter around herself. The night air had grown colder.

She looked up at him, soft and glowing beneath the streetlight, her features calm yet curious.

“Thank you again, Xander,” she said gently. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do what you did back there. But you did.”

“I don’t think you realize how easy it is to want to do something for you,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and calm, yet full of meaning.

June blushed again, this time turning her face slightly to hide it. “You have a way with words, I’ll give you that.”

He smiled. “Then let me use that way with words for one more thing.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I want to see you again,” he said, his tone growing bold yet respectful. “How about dinner? This Saturday. 8 PM.”

June looked up at him, surprised by his confidence. Her lips tugged upward in a teasing smirk. “What if I say no?”

Xander leaned casually against the open car door, his arms folding across his chest. “Then I’m afraid you’ll leave me with no option but to continuously show up at your place until I get a yes.”

Her laughter came easily, genuine and light. It rang down the street like music.

“No way you’re going to do that,” she said through a giggle, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Oh, try me, Mrs. June,” he said, flashing her a charming, determined smile. “I know what I want. And I definitely go for it.”

She tilted her head, pretending to think.

“Well, I’m not giving you an answer right now,” she said with playful defiance. “You’ll just have to wait.”

“I’m a patient man,” he replied. “But I’m also a prepared one.”

He reached into his pocket and handed her a sleek black business card with his name Xander Reeve embossed in silver. His number was printed clearly beneath it.

“Text me. Call me. Send smoke signals. Whatever works,” he said. “But I want to hear from you.”

June stared down at the card for a second, then met his eyes. “Smooth.”

“Only when it matters,” he said with a wink.

There was a brief, heavy pause between them. Their eyes lingered just a moment too long. The electricity was unspoken but unmistakable.

“I should go in,” she said, her voice softer now.

Xander nodded. “Goodnight, June.”

She turned, took a few steps toward her building, then stopped.

“Xander,” she said over her shoulder, “I don’t give my number to people I barely know.”

He smirked. “That’s okay. I plan to change that soon.”

She smiled again wide, unguarded

and walked into the building, the sound of her heels echoing in the quiet night.

Xander watched until she disappeared inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

He exhaled slowly, looking up at the stars as if to release the weight of everything he hadn’t said. Not yet.

But soon.

He slid back into his car, pulled out his phone, and opened a hidden folder of photos.

One photo sat at the top.

June.

From the hospital that night. Her hand resting on her chest, bruised but peaceful. The moment he knew he was in love.

He stared at it, then tucked the phone away.

“Patience, Xander,” he murmured to himself.