It was the first day of autumn in 1996 when Isabella took a deep breath as she noticed the trees beginning to take on that reddish hue in their leaves. Besides being her favorite season — during which she drank coffee so often that she seemed more electric than usual — it was also the time when it became easier to observe the stars at the university observatory, her favorite part of the week ever since she had decided to study astrophysics. She walked through the gates of University College London that Thursday, the cold wind playing with the tips of her dark-blonde hair, while the morning sun lazily hid behind the clouds. Damon Albarn had been in the program for a year. Known for solving any equation before the professor finished writing it on the board, he was also a constant presence at parties, cheap bars near campus, and laughter-filled conversations on the university lawn. Intelligent but without arrogance, he had a natural charm, able to talk about black holes and Nintendo games with the same sparkle in his eyes. Isabella noticed him immediately on the first day of class. He was leaning against the railing, listening to something on his Discman, tapping his foot rhythmically, his tousled blond hair falling over his eyes. When she looked up, it was as if the world had briefly paused. Damon noticed her too — the impeccable beige coat, the shiny black boots, the wine-colored lipstick contrasting with the chilly morning. He gave a slight smile, the kind that doesn’t say “hi” but rather “I want to find out more about you.” In the following days, they crossed paths in advanced calculus, celestial mechanics, and applied quantum physics classes. Isabella always arrived with the scent of vanilla mixed with coffee; Damon, with the air of someone who hadn’t slept enough, yet still understood everything. He was fascinated by the way she spoke — her confidence, subtle humor, and the way she scrunched her nose when something didn’t make sense. Their first real interaction happened at a class party, in an old house near Camden Town. Lights flickered, the sound of The Cure mixed with laughter and clinking glasses. Damon was sitting on the sofa, observing the crowd, when Isabella appeared beside him, holding a bottle of beer and a lit cigarette. “I never thought the guy who answers the professor’s questions before he even finishes would like this kind of party.” She said, smiling sideways. “The same knowledge I have in class I use to avoid acting like an idiot in places like this.” He replied, with the same teasing tone. They laughed. They talked for hours about movies, constellations, and how the universe seemed like a great metaphor for the things they couldn’t say out loud. When the music slowed down, Isabella took his hand and led him to the backyard, where the London sky unfolded in a mosaic of shy stars. There, in the cold and the cigarette smoke, they kissed for the first time — no grand declarations, no rehearsals, just the natural impulse of two worlds that, for a moment, collided perfectly. Two months later, Isabella was at the observatory, focused on finishing a project she had started at the beginning of the semester. The room was silent, except for the occasional click of the equipment. Her thin-framed glasses slipped slightly down her nose, and her messy bun let loose a few strands that brushed her face. She was absorbed in the calculations, frowning occasionally, biting her lower lip, lost in the world of stars. The metal door opened with a soft creak, and Isabella barely noticed. She only jumped slightly when she felt the warmth of two firm hands on her waist. It was Damon, his hair slightly tousled and wearing the coat he always seemed to choose effortlessly, carrying with him the familiar scent of cigarettes and his favorite cologne. He said nothing, just stood there for a moment, close enough for her to feel his presence filling the space around her.