I told myself I wouldn't think about him.
That lasted exactly one night.
The next evening, I found myself walking without a destination, my steps familiar even as I pretended they weren't. The city glowed softly, streetlights reflecting off wet pavement from an earlier rain.
I noticed him before I let myself believe it.
Theo stood near the bookstore by the river, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, staring at the window display like he was lost in thought.
I should have kept walking.
Instead, I slowed.
He looked up, surprise flickering across his face before that same quiet smile appeared.
"Mira," he said. "I was hoping I'd see you."
The honesty of it made my chest tighten. "You were?"
He nodded. "I come here when I need to think."
"So this is a thinking spot," I said lightly.
"One of many." He glanced at the bookstore. "Do you read?"
"Yes," I replied. "When I want to disappear."
His gaze softened. "Me too."
We walked along the river without deciding to. The water reflected the city lights in broken lines, like something beautiful that didn't quite hold together.
Theo didn't rush the silence. He didn't fill it with noise or questions. He walked beside me, matching my pace.
"I'm not very good at talking about myself," I admitted eventually. The words surprised me as much as they might have surprised him.
"That's okay," he said. "You don't have to."
I glanced at him. "You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I know," he replied gently. "But if you ever want to say it, I'll listen."
Something in my chest ached, sharp and sudden.
Most people waited for their turn to speak. Theo waited to understand.
We stopped near the railing, the river quiet beneath us.
"Why are you so patient?" I asked.
He hesitated, just for a second. "Because I know what it's like when people don't give you time."
The answer felt heavier than it sounded.
I studied him, seeing not just the kindness but the shadows behind it.
"You don't have to be careful with me," I said softly.
He smiled, a little sadly. "I know. But I want to be."
The moment stretched between us, fragile and intimate.
When we finally parted, he didn't ask for my number. Didn't suggest meeting again.
And somehow, that made it harder to walk away.
As I headed home, I realized something that unsettled me deeply.
He wasn't trying to get closer.
He already was.