COLD UNTIL YOU

CHAPTER 3: THE HIDDEN PAST

By mid-semester their partnership had become something unspoken but deep. They met even when they didn’t have to, studying, talking, sometimes sitting quietly by the fountain. Eliana learned to read the small changes in his mood — the slight tension of his jaw when he was angry, the distant look when memories surfaced.

One evening she found him alone at the fountain again, headphones around his neck, staring at the water. She sat beside him without invitation. “You always come here,” she said.

“It’s quiet,” he replied. “People leave me alone.”

“Maybe you don’t really want to be alone,” she said.

He turned toward her, his eyes sharp but uncertain. “People always leave. It’s easier not to need them.”

She hesitated, then whispered, “Not everyone leaves, Adrian.”

For a moment he said nothing, then looked back at the water. “My father left when I was a kid. My mother worked herself sick. When she died, I stopped letting people in. That’s all.”

Eliana’s heart ached. She placed her hand lightly on his sleeve. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “But you’re not alone anymore.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, yet his shoulders softened. From that night forward he began waiting for her after class, buying her coffee, even teasing her gently. To her it felt like sunlight after a long winter.