From the first moment I saw her, I knew something had changed in me. It wasn’t dramatic — no thunder, no orchestra, no glowing light from the sky. Just a passing glance. But there was something in those eyes… something that refused to let go of my heart. She was sitting by the window seat in the college library, sunlight tracing the outline of her hair. She wasn't even looking around. Her eyes were deep into a book, lost in a world that didn’t include me. But to me, she was the world in that moment. I found myself drawn to that corner of the library every day. I never spoke to her. Never dared. What would I say? “Hi, I’ve been watching you read the same book for a week”? No. So I stayed silent.But I watched. Not in a creepy way—I hope. I just… noticed things. The way her brow furrowed when she was focused. The gentle way she turned the pages. The slight smile when something in the book pleased her. And her eyes. God, those eyes. There was a story behind them—something I could never...