7: Through Her Eyes
1273 Words
Elena woke to the familiar sound of her alarm — soft piano notes that rose gently before fading away. She blinked against the sunlight streaming through the curtains and sat up slowly, brushing her hair away from her face. The clock read 6:00 a.m.
Mornings had always been her quiet sanctuary. Before the chaos of lectures, the questions, the papers, the students. Before the world remembered her name and demanded her attention.
She brewed her coffee in silence, the scent filling her small apartment. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Liam.
He’d looked distant yesterday — more than usual. She’d sensed it the moment he walked in. His calm, detached presence had always intrigued her, but something about the faint tension in his eyes stayed with her long after class ended.
“Someone said something unexpected,” he’d told her. The memory echoed softly. It wasn’t her place to ask, yet she couldn’t stop wondering what it meant.
She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re thinking too much, Elena,” she muttered to herself.
After dressing neatly — a cream blouse tucked into dark trousers — she made her way across the campus. The morning air was crisp, the sky pale and open. Students filled the paths in small clusters, laughter floating like music.
She smiled politely at a few greetings, but her thoughts remained elsewhere.
When she reached the classroom, Liam was already there — early, as always. He sat near the window, a book open in front of him, though his eyes weren’t really reading. The light caught the curve of his jaw, the stillness in his posture.
“Good morning, Liam,” she greeted softly.
He looked up, offering a brief nod. “Morning.”
His tone was even, but something in it felt off — like the echo of a thought he couldn’t quite silence. Elena watched him for a moment longer than she should have before turning to arrange her notes.
Throughout the lecture, she caught herself glancing in his direction. Not intentionally — at least that’s what she told herself. But his silence had a way of drawing attention. He wasn’t the kind of student who sought to be noticed, yet there was something magnetic about his quiet.
At one point, their eyes met briefly — just a flicker — and for reasons she couldn’t explain, her heart stumbled.
When the class ended, Liam lingered as usual, collecting his books slowly. She approached him with her usual calm, though her pulse betrayed her composure.
“You seem a little quieter than usual,” she said lightly. “Everything alright?”
He nodded once. “Yeah. Just… people being complicated.”
“People always are,” she replied, smiling faintly. “That’s what makes life interesting.”
He gave her a small look — one of those unreadable glances that held too much and too little at once — before walking out.
Elena exhaled softly once he left. She stared at the door for a moment, then at the empty rows of desks. The sunlight had shifted, throwing long shadows across the floor.
She told herself she was just concerned. That was all. Concerned about a student who seemed troubled. Concerned about someone’s emotional state, not her own heart.
But as she gathered her things, her hand paused briefly over the desk where he had been sitting. The faintest trace of his handwriting lingered on a forgotten scrap of paper — a line from the book they were studying.
“Some distances are safer, but emptier.”
Elena’s chest tightened unexpectedly.
She folded the paper and slipped it between the pages of her notebook, telling herself it was for safekeeping — for professional reasons.
But even as she locked her office door that afternoon, she knew she was lying to herself.
By the time Liam returned home, the evening had already settled — quiet, golden, and soft. His parents’ house sat on the edge of town, a modest but elegant space surrounded by tall oak trees and the faint hum of life from the nearby streets.
He dropped his bag by the door and removed his shoes. The familiar scent of rosemary and baked bread drifted from the kitchen. His mother always cooked something comforting on Thursdays — a habit she claimed kept the week from feeling too long.
“Liam?” she called. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah,” he answered, stepping into the kitchen.
She stood by the counter, her apron slightly dusted with flour, hair tied back in a loose bun. His father sat at the table with a newspaper, glasses resting low on his nose. The scene was simple — domestic — but it grounded him.
“How was class?” his mother asked, stirring a pot.
“It was fine,” he said shortly, leaning against the counter.
His father glanced up. “Still keeping to yourself?”
Liam gave a small shrug. “Something like that.”
His mother smiled knowingly. “You’ve always been that way.”
There was warmth in her voice, but also something else — a quiet hesitation, as if she was waiting to bring up a topic she knew he wouldn’t like.
Sure enough, after a few moments, she said, “You remember Clara, don’t you?”
Liam stiffened slightly. “Clara?”
“Your childhood friend,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. “You two were inseparable back then. She’s been living abroad with her family, but they’ve just returned. And she’s enrolling at your college next week.”
Liam blinked. The same words from last night, repeated now with more certainty.
His father folded the newspaper neatly. “She’s a lovely girl. Her parents visited last week — she’s grown a lot, apparently. I think it’ll be good for you to reconnect.”
“Reconnect?” Liam echoed flatly. “It’s been ten years.”
His mother chuckled softly. “Some friendships don’t fade that easily. You’ll see.”
He didn’t respond. His fingers tapped the countertop unconsciously, his thoughts drifting elsewhere — to the quiet classroom that morning, to Elena’s voice, to the warmth in her tone when she’d asked if he was alright.
The idea of a “childhood friend” entering that carefully balanced world unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. He didn’t dislike Clara — he just didn’t know her anymore.
And lately, the only person who made him feel understood wasn’t someone from his past… but someone who wasn’t supposed to mean anything beyond her role.
His mother’s voice brought him back. “She’s arriving this weekend. I invited her and her parents for dinner on Sunday. You’ll be here, right?”
Liam hesitated. “I guess.”
“Good.” She smiled, satisfied, and turned back to the stove.
His father rose from the table, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “It’ll be good for you, son. You spend too much time in your head.”
When they both left the room, Liam stood alone for a moment, staring at the soft flicker of light from the kitchen window.
A small breeze drifted in through the open door, carrying the faint scent of rain. He exhaled slowly, his mind heavy with thoughts that refused to settle.
Clara was coming.
The past was coming.
And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to.
He pulled out his phone absentmindedly and saw a new message notification — a reminder from the college about tomorrow’s faculty meeting. Elena would be there.
For reasons he didn’t dare name, the thought steadied him.
- Writer
