It was late. One of those nights that feel like it could stretch forever.

  Christopher and Jewel sat in his apartment, legs tangled on the couch, surrounded by empty takeout boxes and half-watched Netflix titles. The energy between them was different tonight — quieter, charged.

  She looked at him with soft eyes, head tilted against the cushion.

  “You’ve always been my favorite person, you know that?”

  Christopher chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You say that to everyone.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Just you.”

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  He met her gaze. It lingered. There was something in the silence — the kind that asks questions neither of them wanted to answer out loud. Jewel leaned in first, almost unconsciously. He didn’t stop her.

  Their lips met.

  It was slow. Familiar. Like they’d done it a thousand times in dreams. Her hands slid into his hair. His arms pulled her closer. For a moment, nothing existed but them. For a moment, it felt like everything they were always denying had finally come true.

  And then it ended.

  She pulled back first. Her eyes widened — not in joy, but in panic.

  “I… I don’t know why I did that,” she whispered.

  Christopher sat there, heart thudding, trying to hold on to the feeling — the warmth, the closeness — before it faded.

  “I thought we—”

  “It was just the moment,” she cut him off, standing up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to confuse things.”

  He nodded slowly, even as his heart shattered. “Right. Just a moment.”

  But deep down, he knew it was more than that. And that’s what made it worse.