The morning light poured over the campus, giving everything a gentle glow. Racheal adjusted the strap of her bag as she made her way across the courtyard, trying to clear her head. Sleep had given her some rest, but her mind was still heavy with the images from yesterday—the way Declan's eyes lingered on her, the weight of their unspoken history.
She shook her head firmly. New day, new start, she reminded herself, though her heart beat faster at the thought of running into him again.
Her steps slowed when she reached the lecture hall staircase. There he was. Declan, leaning casually against the rail with his hands in his pockets, as if the entire world revolved around his patience. His friends, Gideon and Michael, stood on either side of him, chatting about something Racheal couldn't hear.
The moment Declan's eyes met hers, the casual atmosphere shifted. He straightened slightly, his gaze locking on her with a quiet intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Racheal," he called, his voice steady, carrying enough weight to stop her in her tracks.
Her throat went dry, but she forced herself to respond calmly. "Declan."
He stepped closer, narrowing the space between them. "Are you avoiding me?"
The directness of the question caught her off guard. Her lips parted, but no immediate words came. Declan's expression was unreadable, but his eyes searched hers as though waiting for an answer he already suspected.
Before she could reply, Gideon let out a dramatic sigh and nudged Michael. "Here we go again. Our dear Declan, acting like some heartbroken prince."
Michael grinned, leaning lazily against the rail. "Honestly, man, the way you say her name… anyone would think you've been writing love letters in secret."
Declan shot both of them a glare, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, betraying the calm mask he tried to hold.
Racheal's cheeks heated. She shifted awkwardly, glancing at the ground, but Gideon wasn't done. He stepped forward with a mischievous grin. "So tell us, Racheal, why are you making our friend here look like a rejected lover? The guy barely blinks whenever you're around."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "What? No, it's not—"
Michael interrupted with a chuckle. "Oh, come on. You two standing here, staring at each other like some drama scene—it's painfully obvious."
Declan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Will you two shut up?" His voice was calm but carried enough edge to make Gideon laugh harder.
Racheal hugged her books tighter, unsure whether to laugh, snap, or just walk away. She finally found her voice. "I'm not avoiding you," she said softly, though she wasn't sure if she was convincing herself more than him.
Declan's gaze softened, the smallest flicker of relief crossing his face. "Good. Because I don't want you to."
The teasing silence that followed was broken again by Gideon, who clapped Declan on the back with exaggerated force. "Well, that settles it. Our bro finally admits it. Next thing, he'll be writing her name in the sand."
Michael snickered. "Or carving it on the back of his notebook with little hearts."
Declan muttered something under his breath and started walking toward the hall, clearly done with their antics. "Let's go. Class is starting."
But as Racheal fell into step beside him, the faintest smile tugged at her lips. For once, the heaviness in her chest lifted, replaced by something warm—something dangerously close to hope.