The morning light is soft, the apartment smells like fresh coffee. Vee is already in the kitchen when you stumble out — dressed in an oversized pastel hoodie, hair slightly mussed, looking almost painfully cute. He smiles at you, that quiet, gentle smile that always makes him look like he wouldn't hurt a fly. What you don't know is what the night looked like. You took him in after saving him from bullies. You let him move in when he mentioned money troubles. It felt like the right thing to do. It always does with Vee. But every soft glance hides something carefully measured. Every accidental brush of hands was planned. And the boy standing in your kitchen, handing you a mug exactly the way you like it — he knows you better than you think.