(Michelle Lui's POV)
Steven stood by the garden fountain like he belonged there — tall, steady, sunlight catching the soft edges of his hair. Students passed behind him, laughing, chatting, unaware that MY cardiac stability was hanging by an absolute thread.
He saw me.
And he stood straighter.
Not dramatically.
Not obviously.
Just… enough.
Enough to make something flutter low in my stomach.
"Hi," I said, breathlessly calm.
"Hi," he echoed — one shade softer than his usual tone.
I stepped closer, heart thumping like it hadn't gotten the memo that we were trying to be mature adults today. The air around us felt quiet, warm, suspended.
Steven cleared his throat lightly.
"We can sit," he said.
I nodded, taking the bench beside the fountain. He sat with a respectful gap — not too far, but far enough to show he wasn't assuming anything.
And that alone made my heart tighten.
He wasn't rushing.
He wasn't pushing.
He was choosing careful steps.
For me.
Always for me.
