November 20, 2026.
Ryan didn’t stop.
After the coffee, he texted every few days.
Friendly. Casual.
Ryan: Saw this mural downtown—thought of your design style. [photo]
Ryan: New coffee spot opened near your office. Worth trying?
Ryan: Group happy hour Friday? Mia’s coming.
I showed Damien each one.
He read.
Nodded.
“It’s fine.”
But his jaw tightened.
I replied minimally.
Polite.
“Thanks!”
“Cool.”
“Can’t—busy.”
Ryan didn’t push.
Just kept the door open.
Then the invitation came.
Ryan: Hey. Doing a small Friendsgiving thing at my place Saturday. Nothing big—just food, games, wine. Mia said to invite you. Would love if you came.
I stared at the message.
Mia had mentioned it in passing.
“Ryan’s hosting. You should come. It’ll be fun.”
I hadn’t committed.
I showed Damien
