Rose's POV
The soft buzz of my phone pulled me out of sleep. Morning light streamed through the curtains, falling across the sheets in pale streaks. For a moment, I thought I had dreamed the sound, but then it came again, steady and persistent. I reached for it, rubbing my eyes, a small flutter of hope rising in my chest when I saw Maxwell's name on the screen.
I smiled, already imagining his familiar voice saying he was finally on his way back from Asia. But when I opened the message, my smile faded.
Good morning, love. I'm so sorry. There's been a situation here. I won't be able to come back as planned. Just a few more days, I promise. Unforeseen circumstances. I'll make it up to you when I'm home.
I stared at the message, reading it twice, maybe hoping the words would change. They didn't. I took a slow breath and sank back into the pillows, my chest tightening. Maxwell always meant well. He was kind and loving in his own quiet way, but his work always seemed to pull him further and further away.
I typed back, It's okay, take care of yourself, and placed the phone beside me. The silence of the room felt heavy again, pressing against me in ways I couldn't explain. I shut my eyes and tried not to think about how much I missed him.
Just then, the phone buzzed again. I reached for it, thinking maybe Maxwell had written something else, but the name that appeared this time made me blink. Mickey.
I hesitated before answering. "Hello?"
"Morning, sunshine," came his bright, teasing voice. "You sound like you've just been woken by a prince, but judging by your tone, it was probably a disappointment."
I couldn't help laughing. "You have an interesting way of greeting people."
"That's my charm," he said easily. "Listen, I've got something to ask you. There's this orphanage I volunteer at every few weeks. We do little art sessions with the kids. They're short on volunteers today, and I thought of you. You'd be perfect for it."
"Me?" I asked, sitting up. "Oh no, I'm not good enough to teach anyone. I can barely shape clay without it collapsing."
He laughed softly. "You underestimate yourself, Rose. You're more patient than most teachers I know. The kids will love you. Come on, say yes. I'll pick you up in half an hour."
"Mickey, I..."
"No excuses," he said quickly. "If you hate it, I'll buy you lunch afterward. Deal?"
He always had a way of making me agree before I could talk myself out of it. I sighed, smiling despite myself. "Fine. Half an hour."
"Perfect," he said. "And wear something you don't mind getting messy."
---
The orphanage sat on a quiet street lined with trees. It wasn't grand, but it was bright and welcoming, the kind of place that felt alive. The laughter of children floated through the air, light and joyful. Mickey was waiting at the gate, his sleeves rolled up, a streak of dried paint on his arm.
"You made it," he said, flashing that crooked grin. "You look like you're about to walk into a magazine shoot instead of a craft class."
I rolled my eyes. "You didn't tell me paint would be part of the experience."
"Paint is always part of the experience," he said, opening the gate. "Come on. The kids are going to love you."
Inside, we were greeted by Mrs. Bennett, the matron, a kind, plump woman with soft brown eyes and a smile that felt like home. "Thank you for coming, dear," she said warmly, shaking my hand. "The children are excited. Mickey talks about you often."
I blinked at him, but he only gave an innocent shrug.
The room was full of color-paint-splattered tables, half-finished drawings, and small hands at work. The children's faces lit up when they saw Mickey. They ran to him, shouting his name, tugging at his sleeves. He crouched down to greet them, laughing as they surrounded him, and something about that sight touched me deeply.
He wasn't just good with them; he belonged there.
"Mickey, you're their favorite person," I said softly as he straightened.
He smiled faintly. "Maybe because I know what it's like to be them."
For a second, my heart caught. There was no sadness in his tone, only acceptance, but it made me see him differently,strong, grounded, and quietly kind.
The next few hours passed in a blur of laughter and chaos. We helped the kids paint clay pots and mold tiny figurines. One little boy, Adam, tried to make a horse but ended up with something that looked like a squashed banana. I bent down to help him, guiding his hands gently.
"You're doing great," I said.
He giggled. "It looks funny."
"That's what makes it special," I said, smiling.
Mickey came over then, crouching beside me. "Look at you, Miss Rose, the teacher," he teased. "Didn't you say you weren't good enough?"
I looked up at him, smiling. "I'm improvising."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You're a natural. You just don't see it yet."
Something about the way he said it, the warmth in his eyes, made my breath catch. I turned back to Adam, pretending not to notice the way my heart skipped.
Throughout the day, Mickey was full of energy, moving from one table to another, making jokes, encouraging the shy ones. The children adored him. I caught myself watching him more than once, admiring how easily he filled the room with laughter.
When we took a short break outside, the kids played tag in the courtyard while we sat under the shade of a large oak tree. Mickey handed me a bottle of water and smiled.
"See? You survived."
"I did," I said, smiling. "Actually, it's been… wonderful."
"I told you. You just needed a little push."
I laughed. "You're very good at pushing people."
He leaned back, watching the kids. "Only when I know they'll thank me for it later."
There was something disarming about him, a mix of mischief and sincerity that made it hard to look away. When he turned back to me, his eyes softened.
"You know, you have this calm about you," he said quietly. "Like even when everything feels chaotic, you make it look peaceful."
I looked down at my hands. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because people might think you're flirting."
He grinned. "What if I am?"
"Mickey," I said, shaking my head, "you're impossible."
He laughed, that easy, charming sound that always seemed to fill the air. "Maybe. But I'm good company, aren't I?"
Before I could answer, Mrs. Bennett called us back in for group photos and goodbyes. The children crowded around us, showing off their creations, their eyes shining with pride. I knelt beside a little girl named Lucy, helping her hold up her painted butterfly.
Mrs. Bennett clasped her hands together, smiling. "You two make a wonderful pair," she said, looking between us. "Such chemistry. You make a beautiful couple."
My cheeks warmed instantly. "Oh, we're not a couple," I said quickly. "Just friends."
"Really?" she asked, surprised. "Well, I've known Mickey for years, and this is the first time he's ever brought someone along. You sure you're just friends?"
Mickey gave a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Mrs. Bennett, you're embarrassing her."
"I'm just saying what I see," she said with a knowing smile.
The kids giggled, whispering things to each other, and I felt my face burn even more. Mickey caught my eye, amused, but there was something else there too, something tender that he didn't bother hiding.
When we finally left, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft orange and pink. The courtyard was quiet except for the sound of distant laughter. Mickey walked beside me, his hands in his pockets.
"I think Mrs. Bennett's matchmaking skills are sharp," he said with a grin.
I laughed, shaking my head. "She just likes to tease."
"Maybe," he said, glancing at me. "But she's not entirely wrong. We do look good together."
I gave him a playful look. "You're full of yourself."
"Confident," he corrected, smiling. "And honest. You were amazing today, Rose. The way you handled the kids, the way you smiled, it suits you. You should do it more often."
"Volunteer?"
"Smile," he said softly.
For a moment, the air between us felt still, charged with something I didn't want to name. We reached my car, and I turned to face him. He looked at me with that familiar, teasing glint, but behind it was something gentler, something that made my heart skip.
"Thank you for bringing me here," I said quietly.
He smiled. "Thank you for coming. You made today better, for them and for me."
I looked away, unsure of what to say. He leaned a little closer, his voice lower. "See you in class tomorrow?"
"Maybe," I said, smiling faintly.
He grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."
As I got into the car, he stood there watching, hands in his pockets, the fading sunlight catching his hair. When I drove away, I caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, still smiling.
That night, when I lay in bed, I found myself replaying the sound of his laughter, the way his eyes softened when he looked at the children, and the quiet way he had said, You should smile more.
I told myself it was nothing. Just a good day, a good deed, a good friend. But deep down, I knew something had changed, something small and dangerous, stirring quietly beneath the surface.