Kelly Graves was 22, but to Klaus, she felt like a force of nature.
Her world was built on books, poetry scribbled in margins, and an indifference to social norms that made
her all the more intriguing. She was brilliant, yes — but careless in the best way. She laughed with a
spark in her eyes and spoke blunt truths that sometimes left people uncomfortable but always honest.
Their friendship started through Noah, a mutual friend who saw something in both of them that even they
hadn't noticed yet. Klaus was cautious at first, intrigued but uncertain. Kelly was skeptical, guarded but
curious.
Slowly, their conversations stretched beyond schoolwork. They talked about dreams, fears, the books that
shaped them, and the quiet loneliness that often went unspoken.
Klaus found himself mesmerized by her — not just her mind, but the way she moved through the world,
unconcerned by judgment. Kelly, in turn, found comfort in Klaus's steady presence, his unexpected
warmth beneath the calm exterior, But for Klaus, friendship was no longer enough.
One cool afternoon, sitting beneath the sprawling branches of the old oak tree where they often studied,
Klaus's heart refused to stay silent.
"I think I'm falling in love with you," he said, voice trembling with vulnerability.
Kelly's eyes widened, and for a moment, she was speechless. Then came the frustration — not anger,
but fear.
"Why risk this?" she asked, biting her lip. "We have something good. Why ruin it?"
But Klaus couldn't deny what his heart screamed. And, after much thought, Kelly gave a hesitant yes