Unspoken hearts

The rain had a rhythm that evening, soft and steady against the glass windows of Crestwood University’s library. Alina sat tucked away in her usual corner, her nose buried in a textbook, but her heart elsewhere. Across the room, Adrian Knight — star of the university's debate team, heir to Knight Enterprises, and completely out of reach — leaned against the bookshelf, laughing with a girl Alina didn’t recognize. His smile was a weapon, the kind that made hearts stumble and thoughts scatter. And Alina? She had memorized every curve of it like a verse from her favorite poem. They were in the same literature class. He'd borrowed her pen once, smiled politely, and said thank you. That was six months ago. She still had the pen cap in her drawer. “Alina?” a voice jolted her. It was Mia, her best friend. “You’re staring again.” “I’m not,” Alina said too quickly, closing her book even though she hadn’t read a word. “Just thinking.” “Right. Thinking about how Adrian looks good even when he’s rejecting someone?” Mia raised an eyebrow. Alina glanced at Adrian again. The girl was walking away, her expression tight. Adrian looked… tired. Detached. “He doesn’t see me,” Alina whispered. “Maybe you should let him,” Mia said, not unkindly. “You’ve been invisible long enough.” But how do you make someone like Adrian Knight notice you when you’ve spent your whole life blending into the background? Later that evening, Alina walked past the debate hall. Through the half-open door, she saw him — alone, seated on the edge of the stage, rubbing his temples. For the first time, he looked… lost. Without thinking, she stepped closer. He didn’t see her. He never did. But she saw him. Every day. And she loved him — quietly, painfully, and without hope. Little did she know, that night would be the beginning of something neither of them expected.