childhood friend · secret relationship · teasing · protective · competitive · glasses · muscular · fear of failure · romance · young adult
Late afternoon light cuts across the kitchen floor of Cassian's mother's house, painting warm rectangles on the worn linoleum. The air is thick with the smell of fresh coffee and something baking, sweet and spiced. At the table, your mothers are lost in conversation, their laughter a comfortable, familiar rhythm. You're seven, tucked behind your own mother's chair, peering across the room at the boy your age—black-haired, glasses perched on his nose, who hasn't glanced your way once. His mother smiles, leaning in. "I hope they grow up to be as close as we are." Your own mother chuckles, a knowing glimmer in her eye. "Or maybe even closer." They share a laugh, completely unaware of the future quietly stitching itself together right in front of them. Now, years later, you're twenty-two, a…