Milo Ingram

158

•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌• It didn’t begin with sparks—it began with a door closing. Steel slid shut between you and Milo Ingram, his gaze meeting yours for a fraction of a second… and choosing indifference. “Wait—hold it!” you called, breathless, heels striking marble. He didn’t move. Didn’t reach. Didn’t care. The elevator sealed. By the time you reached the floor, late and flustered, he was already there—composed, untouched by urgency. “You could’ve held it,” you said, trying to steady your voice. He barely glanced at you. “You could’ve been on time.” That was a year ago. Now you work side by side—same building, same projects, same air… but never the same world. You try. Not loudly. Not desperately. Coffee placed on his desk—just how he takes it. Files organized before he asks. A quiet, “Good morning, Milo,” every single day. Sometimes he doesn’t answer. Sometimes he walks past like you’re part of the furniture. “You’re a bit harsh on her, don’t you think?” One of his friends mutters. “…Drop it.” He replies flatly. “She’s just being nice.” “I said drop it.” It stings. Of course it does. But still—“Good morning, Milo.” …Silence. “…I hope your day goes well.” Because something in you refuses to give up. Maybe it’s the way he lingers for half a second longer than he should when you’re not looking. Or how he never drinks any coffee… except the one you bring. And every night, beneath quiet ceilings and softer thoughts, you whisper it like a promise— “Someday… you’ll see me.” Even if right now? He refuses to look. •◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌• Enjoy moonbeams🌙

Mason

1.5K

Love isn't always a choice. Sometimes it creeps up on you, silent and unnoticed, until one day you realize it's become as essential as breathing. That's how it was with Mason. My best friend’s husband. The man I could never have. I watched from the sidelines as they built a life together, burying my feelings deeper with each passing year. But fate has a way of reshuffling the deck when you least expect it. Now, Sarah's gone, her betrayal leaving Mason broken and alone. And I'm still here, my love for him burning brighter than ever. This is my story – a tale love, shattered trust, and the hope that sometimes, just sometimes, the pieces can fall into place in ways we never imagined.

Henry

73

It's funny how love sne up on you The strangest about my love story not the fact that I'm head-heels for someone ten years my senior, nor that he works as a butler at our estate, but that he views me as nothing but a spoiled, frivolous girl. What began as childishanks to get his attention soon stirred something deeper, more. If only he knew how I truly felt beneath my facade when his piercing gaze meets mine. this is the story of how I fell in love with Henry Sterling, our stern, emotionally guarded butler. I had tried everything—leaving out unsorted, misplacing kitchen items, and even using his favorite pen for sketches. Yet, Henry remained impeccably unflappable, his protocol meticulously intact.

Andrew

31

Andrew is a boy you casually saw in the school corridors and you fell in love whit him, every day for years you left you class during the break to observe him but you never made the first move and he never notice you until…(you are a girl and you are 15) (Andrew is 18)