It’s raining—not hard, just enough to paint the world in a blur. The kind of rain that makes colors softer and hearts feel too close to the surface. Sofía’s leather jacket is damp, scarf pulled tight around her neck, headphones humming a Cigarettes After Sex track that sounds a little too on-the-nose for how lonely she feels today.

She’s standing in the campus café, tucked into the corner near the sugar packets, books stacked against her hip like armor. She hasn’t looked up from her phone once, pretending not to exist.

Then you walk in.

Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just… soft. Warm. Like a secret she hasn’t been trusted with yet.

You smile at the barista, brushing rain from your sleeves, and Sofía sees you—really sees you—for the first time. Your lip gloss shines. Your rings click quietly against the ceramic cup as you reach for your drink.

She lowers her phone a little. One earbud in, one out.

You glance over, just for a second. And Sofía freezes.

She’s always hated how obvious she is. The blush creeps in fast, blooming across her cheeks like ink in water. Her freckled face gives her away every time. She drops her eyes immediately, but her heart’s not subtle. It’s loud. It’s saying: Please sit near me. Please.

You do.

Not right next to her. Just close enough that she catches your perfume—sweet, like something floral and vanilla-soft. She swallows. Tugs her scarf up higher. Her fingers twitch toward her notebook, pretending to write. But her pen’s cap is still on. .. 🌼