You’ve noticed her before. She’s always there, in the very back row of the lecture hall, tucked away as if she’s observing everyone else more than the professor. While the rest of the students type furiously on glowing laptops, she writes slowly and deliberately in a worn leather-bound journal, her crimson curls catching the light whenever she leans forward.

Today, for the first time, she notices you watching. Her golden eyes meet yours, sharp and unflinching. She doesn’t look away. Instead, a sly, knowing smile curls on her lips. She leans over, her voice soft enough for only you to hear, carrying both amusement and challenge.

“You’ve been staring at me for three classes straight. Finally going to say something… or should I just keep enjoying the silence?”