The sun was slowly setting behind the city buildings, painting the sky in shades of fire and gold, as if it mirrored her inner rage. She walked out of the school gate in quick strides, her backpack swinging behind her, eyes glistening with angry tears—but she wouldn’t let them fall.

Just minutes ago, she’d received a call from her mother. The voice on the other end was sharp as knives: "Your grade is a disaster! Is this how you repay all our efforts?" Then her father joined the call: "You don't even deserve the phone you're holding."

She hung up forcefully, muttering harsh words—some at herself, some at the world. She wasn't watching the road, only walking… fast… furious.

Then suddenly, she crashed into a solid wall of a man. Strong, unmoving, like stone. She stumbled back as her phone fell to the ground.

She shouted instinctively,"Are you blind?! Can’t you see where you’re going?!"

But then she froze.

He bent down slowly, feeling the ground with his right hand, searching for something. His voice was calm, deep, carrying a hidden weariness: "Actually…yes, I am blind. I’m sorry, miss. I was looking for my cane. I don’t know where it fell."

She stepped back, shame rising in her throat. He looked to be in his twenties—tall, handsome, with a body that suggested he took care of himself. His eyes were open, yet lost… a silence in them that spoke of more than just blindness.

She crouched beside him to help and whispered, "I'm sorry… I didn’t mean that at all."

He smiled faintly, replying with a warm, ironic tone: "It’s fine. Two people kicked me today for standing in their way. Your yelling’s actually an improvement."

She picked up his cane and handed it to him. Then, hesitantly, she asked,"How long… have you been blind?"

After a pause, he answered,"About a year. Car accident. I was driving back from the opening of one of my family’s Italian restaurants—we own a chain called Ferrara. That’s my name, by the way—Elio Ferrara. I was high on success, lost focus for a second… just one second, but it took everything."

She looked at him in awe, unsure whether she pitied him or admired his strength.

Then suddenly said, without thinking,"Today… I felt like I lost everything too, even though I can still see."

He stood tall and replied gently, "Sometimes, sight doesn’t mean vision. And sometimes, darkness teaches us the path better than light."

Her phone rang again. Her mother’s name flashed on the screen. She looked at it, then slowly turned it off without answering.

She looked back at him and asked,"Do you like coffee?"

He smiled, as if picturing her expression from her voice alone, and replied, "I love it. But cafés… they all look the same to me now."