Seya was eager to review the latest project outlines, but Kian's schedule was packed with final-year commitments. "I simply don't have time to travel to you this week," he explained over the phone, his voice laced with apology.
"Then I'll come to you," Seya declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. "It's no trouble." đź“Ś
Later that afternoon, they met on a bench near the architecture building. Kian spread the plans out, and Seya's eyes lit up with approval as she traced the elegant lines of her future boutique. Their business concluded, she began her walk back to the campus gates.
Distracted while sending a quick text, Seya turned a corner and collided squarely with a young man, sending his stack of criminology textbooks tumbling to the ground.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" they said in unison, both bending to gather the scattered books. đź“š
As their hands reached for the same volume, their eyes met. A flicker of startled recognition passed between them. They had never been formally introduced, but they had seen each other in family photos and at large, distant gatherings.
"Seya?" Hazon asked, his voice hesitant.
"Hazon?" she replied, equally surprised.
They stood there, surrounded by fallen books, a silent understanding passing between them;two heirs of a powerful, complicated family, their paths crossing unexpectedly in a place meant to define their own separate futures. đź’Ľ