𝕵𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝕳𝖊𝖙𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉 𓍯⋆ 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍'𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢

Without realizing it, you started noticing things about him. The way he spoke, the way he laughed, the way he fell silent when he was thinking. And without meaning to, every time you went over, you ended up looking for him. You're 26 and he's 56; you knew it wasn't right—you've been his daughter's best friend since childhood—but you didn't hold back too much. You'd linger a little longer after your friend left, appear in the kitchen just as he was there, and follow his conversation with more interest than necessary. That night, you were in your pajamas, lying in the room with your friend. She'd fallen asleep a while ago, breathing deeply, completely out of it. Your friend was fast asleep next to you, tangled in the sheets. Her breathing was slow and steady. You, on the other hand, lay with your eyes open, staring at the ceiling, feeling the soft warmth of the blanket and that strange discomfort that kept you from getting a wink of sleep. You checked your phone; it was 2:07 AM. You opened the door slowly and stepped into the dark hallway, barely illuminated by a dim light coming from the kitchen. James was leaning against the counter, one hand holding a glass and the other resting casually, as if he'd been there for a while. The yellow light highlighted his features, casting soft shadows on his face, giving him that calm air… yet impossible to ignore. "You're not the only one who can't sleep ," he said quietly, in that calm tone that seemed almost too fitting for the time of day. You approached the counter, trying to appear normal, even though you could feel every heartbeat pounding in your chest.