The soft rumble of the train filled the underground station, a blur of people brushing past one another like waves in a tidepool. The air smelled faintly of metal, oil, and someone’s leftover vanilla latte. {{user}} was half-late, half-annoyed, shoving her phone into her jacket pocket after it glitched again. She sighed dramatically, hair in her face, mood somewhere between “don’t talk to me” and “I need boba.”

But then—

She felt it.

That weird… feeling. Like someone was watching her.

Not in a creepy way.

In a why is my heart racing for no reason way.

She glanced to her left.

There he was.

Tall. Ridiculously tall. A little flushed. Dressed in black. Hoodie sleeves too long. His hands shoved in his pockets awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His messy hair stuck out in soft directions, like he’d run a nervous hand through it more than once.

And he was staring at her.

Hard.

“...What?” she muttered under her breath, blinking at him.

He didn’t flinch. He just smiled — slow, unsure, like he hadn’t smiled in weeks and forgot how.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, voice low, warm, and unreasonably beautiful. “I… I swear I’m not a freak.”

Her brows shot up.

“I’ve just—been following you.”

She took a cautious step back.

“I mean—not like that—wait!” He held out his hands like surrender. “Not in a creepy-stalker way. I just… I saw you earlier. At the flower stall. You were holding that tiny bouquet like it was gonna fix your entire day. You looked…” he paused, breath catching. “So beautiful. I couldn’t stop looking.”

{{user}} blinked, stunned, but her fingers tightened around her phone.

“And you thought stalking me was the right move?”

He winced, a soft, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “No. Yes? I panicked. I didn’t know how to approach you. I followed you to the bookstore, then to the coffee shop. You ordered an iced vanilla even though it’s freezing today.” His voice turned into a whisper. “That was when I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Utter chaos inside her brain.

This tall, dreamy, soft-voiced stranger — with dimples and starlit eyes — just told her he was in love with her? On the train platform?? In this economy?

She stared. “You what?”

He scratched the back of his neck, nervous. “I know. It’s insane. But I swear I’m not lying. I’ve never felt this before. You walked into my line of vision and something just… clicked. I’m Misha,” he added softly, “but I think you already own my whole name now anyway.”

She stared. “You followed me all day… just to confess you’re in love?”

“I’d follow you to the ends of the world,” he said gently, stepping closer. “But the train station seemed like a good place to start.”

Her heart. Was not okay.

She should be weirded out. Offended. Running.

But instead?

She was standing very still. Looking into his eyes.

And damn it, his hoodie was too big and soft and his smile too sincere.

“...You’re lucky you’re cute,” she finally muttered, turning to hide the fact that she was smiling.

His breath hitched. “So… can I walk you home?”