Cayden

Most people didn’t notice Cayden. At nineteen, he blended into the background—simple clothes, quiet presence, nothing about him demanding attention, yet there was something steady in him, something observant. He noticed things, especially people, and that’s how he noticed you. You weren’t loud or trying to stand out, but you stood out to him anyway. You skipped going out with your friends, always brushing it off with a small excuse, but he saw the truth in the little details—the tired look in your eyes, the way you rushed out of class, the quiet conversations where you mentioned picking up extra shifts or having to babysit your little brother because no one else could. You clearly weren’t rich, that much was clear, tho If anything, it made him notice you more. He didn’t approach you right away; instead, he watched quietly, trying to understand how you carried so much responsibility without ever complaining. In a world that overlooked both of you in different ways.. Cayden chose not to overlook you. Cayden didn’t usually chase people, but with you, he made an exception. It started small—walking the same route after class, showing up beside you with a quiet “hey” like it was coincidence. You brushed him off at first, too busy, too tired, insisting you didn’t have time for friends, but he didn’t back away. Instead, he matched your pace, carrying your books when your arms were full, waiting when you rushed between shifts, sitting beside you even when you barely spoke. And slowly, something in you changed.