I nodded in satisfaction and sent my name in text.

“I’ll check your note tonight,” I said and left.

The first message he sent me was: “Do you really not mind my stuttering?”

Half an hour had already passed when I saw this message, so I replied: “Not at all, the more I hear it, the cuter it gets.”

Feeling that it wasn’t enough, I added: “I command you to tell me a story tonight.”

I watched as the “typing” indicator lingered for over a minute, and finally, he squeezed out: “Okay.”

We really got together out of nowhere.

I fell for him at first sight—no confession, no love that grew over time—it was just me being pushy, and he just happened not to reject me.

But he could have rejected me. The fact that he grabbed my hand and asked my name, and said, “We can give it a try,” doesn’t that mean he had some feelings for me too?

He had just broken up with his ex three days earlier. Jumping straight into something with me right after—doesn’t that seem a little off?

I also heard firsthand how much he cared for his ex last night, and I believed it deeply.

For a long time, I was caught in a mix of happiness and doubt. I felt happy but somehow unreal.

It wasn’t until he confessed his feelings to me that all my anxiety and insecurity disappeared.

That evening, he came to pick me up from work to go out for dinner. Seeing him at that moment, I truly felt the joy of being in love!

He is incredibly thoughtful, though very quiet, usually responding with just one or two words.

I knew what he was worried about, but I hoped that, at least with me, he wouldn’t have to hide it.

After dinner, I held out my hand, signaling for his phone.

He hesitated for a moment, then handed it over.

I saw the note he had for me: “Little Hong An An,” followed by a big red heart.

I couldn’t stand it when he looked at me with those big eyes and asked, “Is… is it… not… not okay?”

He said he thought about it for a long time, that I’m cute, and it suited me.

In my mind, I was screaming: “It’s fine, but not necessary!”

All I wanted was a note that felt a little more like we were in a relationship.

Of course, I didn’t ask him to change it. When he told me he’d thought about it for a long time, I figured I could accept anything.

I’m really easy to please.

---

After half a year together, we moved in together.

No one suggested it; it just happened naturally.

The lease on my old place expired because the landlord was moving abroad and wanted to sell the house, so I couldn’t stay any longer.

So, I had no choice but to move in with my big stuttering boyfriend!

His place had two bedrooms. I moved into the spare room.

Of course, we didn’t live separately—we always slept together.

But we both value our privacy, so keeping two rooms was a way of respecting each other’s space.

That’s probably why no one explicitly brought up the idea of moving in together.

Still, moving in after six months wasn’t too soon.

His place wasn’t far from my office, though it was a bit farther from his. So, I became his driver.

Every day, I would drop him off at work, then drive his car to my office, and after work, I’d pick him up, and we’d go home together.

As for meals after moving in, he usually did the cooking, and I helped.

Later, I got interested in cooking and asked him to teach me (really, it was because he went on a business trip for a week, and I craved his cooking too much).

Unfortunately, I’m nowhere near as talented in the kitchen as he is. After trying several times, I felt like I wasn’t making any progress.

I rated my cooking like this: bad, bad, bad, okay, okay, okay…

Of course, I didn’t give up, because I wasn’t cooking out of some passing interest. I needed to survive (and avoid starving when he wasn’t around).

After a few months of practice, although my skills hadn’t improved much, I’d become eager to try new dishes with him.

I especially enjoyed working together to try recipes he’d never made before. He’s no master chef, either. Sometimes, he’d mess up a dish, and we’d turn it into a game where the loser had to eat the failed creation.

Although I often lost, my stuttering boyfriend would always let our friend, the trash bin, help me finish most of it.

He’s really soft-hearted.

Since I started learning to cook, going to the supermarket with him has also become one of my joys.

In the past, I’d just quietly follow him, watching him pick things out, or wander off to look at what interested me, then meet him at the checkout.

Now, it’s different.

“Should we buy some of this?”

“N-no… n-need… I th-think.”

“How about this?”

“No n-need.”

“Not this either?”

“This one w-we should g-get.”

“Then let’s buy it!”

Originally, a 30-minute grocery trip could now easily stretch to an hour with me.

And there were conversations like:

“Are we going to the supermarket today?”

“Are we going to the supermarket today?”

“We’re definitely going to the supermarket today, right?”

“Let’s… go?”

But after I became more skilled, those conversations started happening less often.

Oh, did I mention?

My stuttering boyfriend has six-pack abs and two well-defined chest muscles.

It’s not super exaggerated, but it feels really good to touch.

Many of our nighttime “close calls” have been triggered by my obsession with touching his abs.

As a result, I often look at my scrawny body and sigh, but thankfully, he doesn’t mind.

---

Now, about the ex who broke his heart… How do I know they were beautiful?