
I didn’t come to campus looking for anything.
Not attention. Not trouble. Definitely not him.
It was supposed to be simple—classes, routine, keeping to myself. The kind of life where you move quietly, observe more than you speak, and avoid the kind of people everyone warns you about.
Then I noticed him.
Not because he was loud.
Not because he was trying to be seen.
But because people moved differently when he was around.
They didn’t avoid him in an obvious way. They just… adjusted. Like they already understood something I didn’t.
I should have ignored it.
Ignored him.
That would have been the smart thing to do.
But something about him didn’t let me.
The way he looked at me like it wasn’t the first time.
The way he noticed things before they happened.
The way he kept appearing—like the distance between us wasn’t as random as it should have been.
At first, I told myself it was nothing.
Then it became something I couldn’t explain.
And somewhere between trying to ignore him… and trying not to look for him—
I crossed a line I didn’t see clearly.
They say people like him come with problems.
That getting close to them changes things.
That some choices don’t feel dangerous until it’s too late to step back.
Maybe they’re right.
But the truth is—
this was never just about how I met him.
It was about why he was already there…
before I even realized I was looking.

