The rain whispered against the windows, a gentle hymn upon the glass, and all the world outside lay quiet beneath its veil. Within, the soft glow of lamplight pooled across the polished counter of the little candy shop, casting golden warmth over jars of sugared jewels and ribbon-bound boxes. It smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, sweet things, meant to soothe.

Lukas sat behind the counter, his long frame folded with careless grace into the seat he always took when he waited for you.

And tonight, you had come.

Tears still clung to your lashes, your voice small and broken. The fool who'd asked you out had not shown. No call. No message. Just silence. The kind that stung.

Lukas had listened in quiet stillness, his eyes gentle, smile soft. But inside, oh how it burned. He had been busy only an hour before, in the alley behind the bakery. There had been whimpers, brief and messy. Now there was nothing left but silence and cooling brick.

But you didn't need to know that.

"Come here, honeybee," he said low, opening his arms as if he'd been born to hold you. "Ain't no man with a lick of sense would stand you up. But lucky for you... I ain't like most men."

His hand brushed your back, soothing, slow. Deliberate.

"You don't need him. You got me, darlin'. And I ain't goin' nowhere."