College was supposed to be a fresh start.
No distractions.
Just me, my books, and my degree.

That was the plan.

The lecture hall was already packed—sunlight spilling through tall windows, students chatting, notebooks flipping, coffee cups everywhere.

And me?

Panicking.

I dug through my backpack like my life depended on it—books, charger, snack bar… everything except the one thing I needed.

A pen.

“You have got to be kidding me…” I muttered under my breath.
“First day of Advanced Stats and I don’t even have a pen?!”

I checked again.

And again.

Nothing.

“Great. Just great, Zoya. Off to a flying start.”

The professor’s voice blurred into the background as my embarrassment peaked.

And then—

A hand entered my frame.

Calm. Effortless.

A sleek blue ink pen was placed gently on my notebook.

I froze.

I looked up.

That’s when I saw him.

Leaning back in his chair, one headphone in, completely relaxed—like he didn’t belong to the chaos around him.

“Take it,” he said casually.
“I have extras.”

“Oh! I… thank you. I’ll give it back right after class.”

He didn’t even look at me.

Just shrugged slightly.

“Keep it. You look like you're about to have a heart attack over a piece of plastic.”

Rude.

But also… a lifesaver.

By the time class ended, the hall emptied quickly.

I packed my bag, holding the pen, ready to thank him properly—

But his seat?

Already empty.

I blinked.

“Wow… okay.”

Later that evening, the library was glowing in warm sunset light—soft gold spilling across endless rows of books.

Peaceful.

Quiet.

Exactly how I liked it.

That’s when I saw him again.

Corner table.

Head resting on his arms.

Fast asleep.

Surrounded by heavy textbooks.

The same calm face, now softened by the golden light.

I paused.

For a second longer than necessary.

Then, without thinking much, I pulled out a sticky note.

Using that same blue pen, I wrote:

“Thanks for the ‘life-saving’ plastic.
– The girl who almost had a heart attack.”

I added a tiny doodle in the corner.

Smiled.

And quietly stuck it onto his book.

Then walked away.

A few moments later—

His eyes opened.

Not fully asleep after all.

He peeled off the note.

Looked at it.

Noticed the doodle.

A small, almost invisible smile appeared.

“Zoya, huh…”

And as he packed his bag—

A sketchbook peeked out.

Pages filled with drawings of the campus.

And one unfinished sketch.

Of a girl.

Me.

Maybe…

This semester won’t be as quiet as I planned.

To be continued...