It was a rainy Friday.
Classes were cut early, the skies were sulking, and Samantha's driver had gotten stuck in traffic three barangays away.
She was panicking.
"Angelique's school just called," she told Ryan, clutching her phone. "They're asking if anyone can pick her up, and I—I can't leave this client pitch."
Without hesitating, Ryan stood.
"Text me the location."
She blinked. "Ryan, it's raining hard. You don't have to—"
"I do," he said. "Because you don't even have to ask."
An hour later...
Angelique looked up from the covered bench at school just as Ryan jogged in, soaked from the knees down, carrying a pink umbrella and wearing the most miserable raincoat ever.
"Uncle Ryan!" she shouted, grinning.
He knelt in front of her, holding up the umbrella like a trophy. "Guess who just braved the storm for a princess?"
"You?" she giggled.
"Wrong," he said, standing and offering his hand. "Your Ryan."
In the car, Angelique held his hand the entire ride.
"Mommy says you're her friend," she said, voice small but curious.
"I am," he replied, careful.
"But... do you want to be my friend too?"
Ryan turned fully to face her, his voice softer than it had ever been.
"I would be the luckiest person in the world."
Angelique beamed.
"Okay," she said, leaning on his arm. "Then you're not just Mommy's friend now. You're ours."
That night, Samantha opened the door to find Angelique asleep on Ryan's shoulder, his jacket wrapped around her like a blanket.
"She told me I'm hers now," Ryan whispered.
Samantha bit her lip, eyes misting.
"She doesn't give her heart easily," she said.
"Neither do I," he replied. "But it's yours. Both of you."
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