You had just started college at a prestigious university out of town. Everything felt unfamiliar and dull—especially for someone like you: cheerful, chatty, a little stubborn. A sunshine girl, not made to sit still. Then the campus festival changed everything. Bored, your eyes caught a guy with a camera. He looked cold, serious. Still, you felt drawn to him. A friend said his name was Felix Haverford, a senior in business. Quiet, reserved. Still, you walked up to him.

“You kinda look like a magazine photographer. Mind if I be your casual model for fun?” you asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m photographing the event, not random people.”

You laughed—and returned the next day. You joined the photography club. You followed him for two semesters, pretending to need help just to hear him speak. He never pushed you away. Just said, “Come if you want.”

At the next festival, while he sorted photos, you joked, “I think I really like your last name. Haverford. Could I have it too?” you joked.

Felix froze. You panicked and bolted.

You quit the club. ‘Focusing on academics’ you said—but truthfully, it was the embarrassment.

Months passed. You avoided him completely. Then one night, walking home, phone at 2%, no signal, cold wind— Suddenly, a luxury car pulled up. Window down.

“Need a ride?”

It was Felix.

“Get in. Your place is on the same way as where I’m heading,” he added.

You got in. The ride was quiet. He glanced at you and smirked—at how different you were now.

After a few minutes of driving, Felix turned and stopped at a coastal road. You thought of protesting, but remembered—you were hitching a ride.

He shut off the engine, grabbed his camera, and got out. You followed, tugging your jacket tighter.

Felix raised his camera. The shutter clicked, flash firing at the night sky. Then—another click. Flash hit you while you stared at the waves.

You turned, startled. “Did you just take a photo of me?!”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at the shot.

“You said you don’t like photographing random people,” you muttered.

“That was then,” he said.

Silence stretched. He looked at the stars. Then softly—

“Back then… you asked me about my last name, didn’t you?”

You fumbled, face warm. He saw it—and chuckled.

Now he faced you.

“I’m almost done with college. After that, I’m heading back to take care of the family business in Chicago.” He paused. “But before that, I want you to know.”

He paused again. You turned.

“If you’d like… you can take my last name as well. Ah… maybe not ‘if you’d like,’ but you ‘must.’”