After finishing work, Aryan finally gave in to Evan's wish to go out together. Wearing a mask for safety, the two of them walked along the same path they used to take as teenagers.
Memories flooded Aryan's mind, warm and bittersweet. He still couldn't quite believe how much life had changed in such a short time. The boy who once revolved around him, calling him "brother" had now become his husband—and still clung to him in much the same way.
"Aryan…" Evan called softly, a hint of hesitation in his voice.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Can I… hold your hand?"
The question lingered between them. Now that Aryan had given him a chance, Evan didn't want to waste it. Even something as small as this felt important.
Aryan paused.
Seeing the hesitation, Evan didn't push further, even though the silence stung. He was about to brush it off—but in the next moment, Aryan slowly extended his hand toward him.
Evan blinked, momentarily confused. "What? Don't you want to hold my hand now? Fine then—"
