Days passed, as days tend to do. But that one image of the girl in the blue dress refused to fade.
Lucas had not spoken to her. He had not needed to. Her joy was a language in itself, and it lingered long after the lights dimmed.
Then one evening, in a quiet house on a hill, the stars realigned. It was a simple supper, a birthday gathering. Laughter filled the room, plates clinked, stories flowed like wine. And then, someone nudged Emily.
"Hey," her friend grinned. "You remember the festive night? Someone saw you stumbling on your feet. He asked about you. Wants to know your name."
The teasing followed quickly, as it always does. Emily, never one to lose her poise, laughed it off, but inside, something flickered. She didn't know why she cared. Maybe it was the idea that someone noticed her, truly noticed. Or maybe it was because she rarely felt like the girl others looked for in a room.
So she asked, casually. "Who is he?" And that's how curiosity bloomed, not in grand gestures, but in sideways glances, whispered names, and quiet smiles that meant more than they let on.
After that first night where she left him in awe, things didn't begin with fireworks. It was quiet, careful.
A friend passed along a number with a knowing smile. She hesitated, but curiosity won. A name, a voice. Then one message turned into two. Then a phone call, the kind you don't plan for. The kind that stretches through the silence of a sleepy evening until your ears are worn against the receiver.
They talked of simple things, childhood, books, the way the wind sounded at their windows.
She laughed a lot. He mostly listened. But every now and then, she'd hear his voice crack. Not from nerves, but from trying not to fall too fast. They didn't speak of love. But the distance between them? It was already shrinking.