The Saturday coffees had settled into rhythm—same downtown cafe, same corner table, same black coffees cooling between laced fingers. No rush. No demands. Just quiet progression: longer holds, deeper glances, softer words. Ethan felt the shift in his bones—fear still whispered, but trust was learning to answer back louder.That Saturday began like the others. Ethan arrived early, claimed the table, ordered. Watched the door.Caleb walked in at 11:00 sharp.Dark green Henley, sleeves rolled, hair damp from morning rain. He smiled—small, private, the one reserved only for Ethan—and approached.They sat. Hands met immediately across the table.No words at first. Just the familiar warmth of fingers lacing, thumbs brushing gently.Then Caleb spoke softly. "Missed this all week."Ethan smiled. "Me too."They talked easily—classes, alliance events, small things. Then deeper: fears, hopes, the slow rebuilding.Ethan squeezed Caleb's hand. "I keep waiting for something to go wrong. For the old
Last Updated : 2026-02-12 Read more