For the first time in a long time, Nadia stopped looking for Stephen.
And somehow—
that was exactly when he started looking for her.
By Monday, he was waiting outside her class.
On Tuesday, he walked beside her to the library without even asking.
By Wednesday, it had become something quiet and natural.
Like they had always been this way.
Nadia tried not to think too much about it.
Tried not to notice the way he slowed down so she could walk beside him. The way he waited when she stopped to fix her bag. The way he looked at her now—not quickly, not by accident, but fully.
As if he finally wanted to know her.
That afternoon, they sat in the back corner of the library.
A book was open in front of Stephen.
Nadia had not turned the same page in almost ten minutes.
"You are not reading," Stephen said quietly.
"You are not either."
"I never said I was."
She smiled.
He looked at her for a second too long.
Then he looked away.
"Nadia."
"Hmm?"
"What did you write in those letters?"
She froze.
Of all the things she expected him to ask—
not that.
"You remember the letters?"
"You wrote more than one."
Her face warmed immediately.
"I wrote too many," she muttered.
Stephen smiled slightly.
"I know."
She looked down at the table, suddenly nervous.
"You really want to know?"
"I think," he said softly, "I should have known a long time ago."
Nadia looked at him.
Then slowly, carefully, she opened the old notebook she always carried in her bag.
The pages were worn.
Folded at the corners.
Stephen frowned slightly.
"You still have them?"
"I never thought you would read them," she said quietly.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then she flipped through the pages until she found one.
"I wrote this after the first day I saw you."
She did not look at him as she read.
"You look like the kind of person people misunderstand because you are quiet. Everybody thinks quiet people do not feel anything. But I think maybe you feel everything. Maybe you just do not know how to say it."
Stephen stared at her.
Nadia laughed nervously and closed the notebook.
"Okay. That is enough. I am embarrassed now."
"No," he said softly.
She looked up.
"Do not stop."
The way he said it made her heart stumble.
So she opened the notebook again.
"Today you walked past me and did not even notice me. I know that sounds silly, but somehow it still made my whole day."
She smiled at herself.
"I was so embarrassing."
"You were honest," Stephen said.
Nadia looked at him.
He was not laughing.
He was looking at her like every word mattered.
"You really liked me that much?" he asked quietly.
She held his gaze for a second.
"More than I should have."
Something changed in his expression.
Something softer.
Warmer.
Then, before he could stop himself, Stephen reached across the table and took her hand.
Nadia stopped breathing.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"For all the time I lost."