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The afternoon sun was soft, the kind that made campus look warmer than it actually was. I had just finished my class and was sitting on one of the low concrete benches near the faculty building, scrolling through my phone, barely paying attention.
I didn't notice Denzel until his shadow stretched across my lap.
"You look like you're overthinking again," he said, voice light, a hint of amusement woven in.
I looked up and found him standing there — hands in his pockets, calm as always, with that effortless charm he carried like second nature.
"I'm not overthinking," I sighed. "I'm just… thinking. There's a difference."
He sat beside me, keeping a respectful gap, but still close enough that I felt his presence. "Okay then," he said. "What are you thinking about?"
"Life," I answered dramatically.
He laughed under his breath. "That's not vague at all."
I nudged him with my shoulder, and he nudged back gently — nothing more than friendly teasing, nothing complicated. Just easy.
For a moment, we sat in a comfortable silence. Students passed by, some laughing, some rushing, the world moving normally around us.
"You seem different this semester," Denzel finally said. "Lighter. Like you're letting yourself breathe."
His voice wasn't probing — just observant, soft.
"Trying to," I admitted. "I'm doing new things… letting myself enjoy stuff without thinking too much."
"That's good," he said quietly, turning his head a little to look at me. "You deserve that."
Those words settled warm in my chest. No pressure, no expectations. Just a gentle truth.
Before I could respond, I caught movement from the corner of my eye.
Rav.
He had just come out of the faculty building, holding a book to his chest, his bag slung over one shoulder. He spotted me instantly — he always did — and his expression softened in that warm, almost cautious way of his.
Not jealousy. Not interruption.
Just acknowledgment.
He lifted a hand slightly, the smallest wave, paired with that quiet smile that always made me feel something settle inside me. I waved back, and he lingered for one more second before walking off — giving me space without disappearing completely.
Denzel noticed, of course. He glanced at Rav, then at me, then back at the students passing by.
"He likes you," Denzel said simply.
I blinked. "Rav?"
"Mhm." He shrugged, not dramatic about it. "Anyone with eyes can see it."
Heat rose to my cheeks, and I shook my head. "It's not like that."
"I didn't say it was," he replied calmly. "Just that he cares."
There was no teasing. No judgment. Just observation — the same way he seemed to notice everything.
Another silence settled between us, comfortable again.
"You know…" Denzel said, resting his elbows on his knees, "it's nice talking to you. You make things feel… calm."
I raised a brow. "Me? Calm?"
He laughed lightly. "Yeah. You have this… presence. Like even when things are chaotic, you don't lose yourself. Or you try not to."
It was connection — quiet and steady.
"Talking to you is easy too," I admitted.
We shared a small smile, warm and soft.
And maybe that was enough — for now. No rush, no pressure, no forced closeness. Just two people learning each other at their own pace, with the world continuing in the background: Rav's gentle glance from afar, students chattering, the breeze shifting through the courtyard… everything fitting together effortlessly.
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