lucky encounter

Closer than the words

The semester had ended, but Kobe and Marshel were just beginning.

Over winter break, they messaged constantly—sending each other photos of their family pets, inside jokes from class, and updates on the books they had promised to read together. Kobe even sent Marshel a sketch of the coffee shop where they had spent hours cramming for finals. In the drawing, she was smiling, mid-laugh, her coffee cup in hand. When she saw it, she called him immediately.

“You made me look like sunshine,” she said softly.

“You *are* sunshine,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

By the time spring semester started, they were inseparable. People on campus noticed the change. Kobe still sat in the back row—but now, Marshel was there too, her notebook full of doodles and her laughter lighting up even the dullest lectures.

They had their first real “date” at a poetry night on campus. Kobe had to be dragged up to the mic, cheeks flushed, hands trembling slightly. But his voice was steady when he read the final lines:

> “I used to think silence was my shelter,

> Until your voice became the quiet I craved.”

When he looked up, Marshel was wiping a tear from her cheek.

Later that night, they sat side by side on a bench near the library. The moon hung low, casting soft silver shadows.

“You ever think,” Marshel whispered, “about how love kind of sneaks up on you?”

Kobe nodded. “All the time. It’s like… I didn’t see it coming. But now that it’s here, I don’t want to imagine things without it.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder.

They didn’t need to say much after that. Their silence was full of meaning—comfortable, peaceful, alive.

And so, their story unfolded—not with grand gestures, but with shared glances, lingering hands, and the kind of love that grows when two people see each other clearly, and stay.

TO BE CONTINUED...