The Billionaire's Soft Boy

(Noah’s POV) “Looking for a guy in finance, 6'5, blue eyes…” That damn t****k sound had been haunting me for weeks. Not because I fit it — I didn’t. Because I wanted to. I’m Noah. Twenty-six. I work in finance. I’m not 6'5. I don’t have blue eyes. I don’t even drink protein shakes. I’m the guy at the back of the group photo. The one they forget to tag. The kind of guy who brings snacks to meetings and double-checks everyone’s spreadsheets. Nice. Safe. Soft. And invisible. Every day, I watched the world celebrate the bold and beautiful — men with charm, jawlines, and abs that looked photoshopped in real life. And then there was me… Sweaters too big. Shoulders too narrow. Voice too soft. Every time I opened my mouth, someone asked if I was "okay." Spoiler: I wasn't. I didn’t want much. Just a girlfriend. Someone to call mine. To hold. To take care of. To tell me I wasn’t a mistake. But life isn’t kind to soft boys in hard cities. Especially in this world of finance bros and viral trends. I was barely surviving — crushed between cubicles, deadlines, and the silent ache of loneliness. Until she noticed me. I didn’t know it yet, but she was watching. Tracking my routines. Timing her steps to match mine. She knew the exact hour I got my morning coffee, the brand of lotion I used, and the name of the guy who bullied me at work. She was always there. Just far enough for me not to see. But close enough… to burn. The first time I ever felt her eyes, it was in the elevator. A faint scent of jasmine and smoke. A breath that didn’t belong to anyone else. And when I turned to look, no one was there. But my chest tightened. My spine prickled. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I mattered. I just didn’t know… She would change my life. Ruin me. Save me. Break me again. Then make me hers — completely.