Aira noticed it when she wasn't trying to.
That was the problem.
They were standing outside the classroom, waiting for the teacher who was always late, students scattered around them in lazy clusters.
Reyhan was leaning against the wall, phone in his hand, pretending to scroll.
Pretending badly.
Aira was talking to Sia about something unimportant—an assignment, maybe, or a rumor she didn't care enough to remember.
She laughed at something Sia said.
And then—
She felt it.
That familiar, quiet awareness.
She turned her head slightly.
Reyhan wasn't looking at his phone anymore.
He was looking at her.
Not staring.
Not intense.
Just… watching.
Like the moment mattered to him.
Aira's laugh faded.
Reyhan blinked, caught, and glanced away like nothing happened.
But it had.
Her chest tightened—not in panic, not in fear.
Recognition.
Sia noticed too.
"Oh," she muttered under her breath.
"Oh no."
Aira frowned. "What?"
Sia leaned closer.
"He looks at you like he's already answered a question you're still avoiding."
Aira swallowed.
"That's dramatic."
Sia shrugged. "So is denial."
The bell rang before Aira could respond.
They walked into class, Reyhan taking the seat beside her as usual.
Only this time, she was aware of him in a way she hadn't been before.
Not habit.
Not comfort.
Attention.
Halfway through the lesson, Aira felt his gaze again.
She didn't look up immediately.
When she finally did, their eyes met.
Reyhan didn't look away this time.
He didn't smile.
Didn't joke.
He just held her gaze for a second longer than normal.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Then he looked down at his notebook like nothing happened.
But everything had.
After class, Aira caught up to him near the stairs.
"Why do you do that?" she asked quietly.
Reyhan slowed. "Do what?"
"Look at me like that."
He stopped.
Turned.
"Like what?"
She hesitated.
"Like you already know something," she said.
"Something I haven't said yet."
Reyhan studied her face carefully.
"I know how you pause before you admit things," he said softly.
"I know when you're about to pull back."
"And I know when you're pretending not to feel something."
Aira's heart raced.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It does," he replied.
She swallowed. "Then why don't you say it?"
Reyhan took a slow breath.
"Because I don't want to rush the moment you realize it yourself."
Aira's chest tightened painfully.
"Realize what?" she whispered.
Reyhan stepped closer—not touching, just close enough to matter.
"That you don't just care," he said quietly.
"You're already in it."
Silence wrapped around them.
Aira didn't deny it.
She couldn't.
Not after noticing the way his eyes softened every time she spoke.
Not after feeling the steadiness of his presence without him asking for anything.
"I see it now," she admitted softly.
Reyhan smiled—not triumphant, not smug.
Relieved.
"That's all I needed," he said.
They walked the rest of the way without speaking.
But the air felt different.
Charged.
Aware.
Because once you noticed the way someone looked at you—
You couldn't unsee it.
RULE #49: Don't ignore the way he looks at you.
Because sometimes, love doesn't announce itself—
it waits for you to notice.