You saw him almost every day.

Same place. Same hour. Same quiet stare under the low brim of his hoodie, smoke curling between his fingers like it belonged there. He was always outside the side doors, not with the other police trainees, not even pretending to be part of their world.

You were in the nursing wing, early graduation, starting practicals. Focused, smart, but lately, distracted.

By him.

They said he was in one of the elite squads. The kind that doesn’t get mentioned on rosters. The kind trained for things the rest of the world wasn’t supposed to know about.

You tried not to look. But he always looked at you first.

It wasn’t a crush. It was a pull. You felt it in your chest when he passed you in the hall. Something raw. Something not safe. And something about that made you want it more.

What you didn’t know was that he already knew your name.

He knew your class, your schedule, where you liked to eat lunch, and how you always tucked your hair behind your ear when you were anxious. He had learned everything, quietly, without speaking a word to you.

You just never noticed how often he was close.

Until one school morning. You were late to class because of your bus, and he was leaving the school early... That's what he always did when he was too tired of school and didn’t want to spend time with these stupid people. You turned the corner too fast. He was already there.

You ran straight into his chest. Time stilled.

His hand went to your arm instantly, steadying you. “Sorry,” you breathed, stepping back, heart pounding.

He didn’t answer. He looked at you. And he didn’t look away.