I knew she was there before I even looked.
You don't notice someone like her by accident.
Not when your attention has already learned the shape of her presence.
I kept working.
Hands busy. Mind elsewhere.
Anywhere but where she stood.
Because the moment I look…
I won't be able to pretend anymore.
And pretending has become necessary.
I wasn't in class today.
I know she noticed.
She notices things she doesn't talk about. That's what makes her dangerous in a way she doesn't even realize. She observes quietly, feels deeply, and says nothing.
And somehow… that says everything.
I told myself it didn't matter.
That she didn't matter.
But if that were true, I wouldn't be standing here, hyper-aware of every second she spends near me.
I wouldn't feel this strange pause in my chest when she stops walking.
I wouldn't know it's her… without even turning around.
I shouldn't be thinking about her like this.
She belongs to a different world.
Clean. Structured. Certain.
And I… don't.
That's why I didn't go to class.
Not today.
Not when everything felt like it was slipping out of control.
It's easier to stay here. To work. To let exhaustion replace thought.
Because thinking leads to her.
And that's where things start getting complicated.
I could feel her gaze.
Soft. Curious. Uncertain.
It lingered longer than it should.
And I let it.
That was my mistake.
Because the more I ignored it, the more aware I became of it.
Until it wasn't just her looking at me—
It was me… waiting for her to.
In class, I've noticed it too.
The way she sits near, but not too near.
The way she stays quiet, but never unaware.
She doesn't ask questions.
But her silence feels like one.
And I don't have answers I can give.
So I stay the same.
Or at least… I try to.
But something has changed.
I know it has.
Because I'm not as unaffected as I pretend to be.
Because today, when she sat close—
I almost said something.
Almost.
But "almost" is where I stop myself every time.
Because crossing that line…
means I won't be able to go back.
And I can't afford that.
Not with her.
Not like this.
That night, I stepped outside for a moment—just to breathe, just to clear my head.
And that's when I saw her.
Standing by her window.
Looking.
At me.
For a second, everything stilled.
The noise. The distance. The reasons I had built so carefully.
All of it faded.
And before I could stop myself—
I smiled.
It wasn't planned.
It wasn't controlled.
It just… happened.
And the second it did, I knew I shouldn't have.
So I looked away.
Ran my hand through my hair like it didn't mean anything.
Like she didn't just see a part of me I've been trying to hide.
But the truth is—
She did.
Because the problem isn't that she looks at me.
The problem is…
I look back.
And every time I do, it becomes harder to remind myself of one simple thing—
Some distances exist for a reason.
And some people…
no matter how quietly they enter your life…
aren't meant to stay.