Stories that don't apologise for what they are.

Alex doesn't do relationships. She doesn't do Sunday mornings or shared playlists or the way someone's breathing changes when they fall asleep next to you. She does Tuesday nights — the kind where you don't exchange last names and nobody pretends it's going to be more than it is. Clean. Simple. Honest.

Kaylee doesn't do any of that. She does book clubs and brunch reservations and the occasional date that ends with a polite hug at the car. She hasn't been touched properly in longer than she'd like to admit, and she's starting to wonder if that matters less than she thought, or more.

They meet on a Monday morning. A branding project. A conference room with bad lighting and good coffee. Alex notices Kaylee's hands first — the way she holds her pen like she's about to write something important. Kaylee notices Alex's voice — low and unhurried, like she's never once worried about being interrupted.

Neither of them is looking for this. That's the problem with the things that find you.