They had split a bottle of red at a tucked-away bistro, talked past the point where either of them checked the time, then reached the curb with that careful little laugh people use when they are trying not to name a good evening. She expected the usual polite hug and a quick walk toward her car.

Instead, he stayed beside her while she found her keys. Not looming, not performing. He asked whether she had always worn that shade of red lipstick, then looked embarrassed by his own question. She laughed hard enough to look away, which gave her a second to decide she did not want the moment rushed.

Her friend later clocked the delayed arrival home in their group chat. She did not explain it. She only sent a wine-glass emoji and let the silence do some work. The next morning, that tiny unanswered message still made her smile while the kettle boiled.