It happened again.
A glimpse. A second glance. A fleeting moment that burned with the kind of quiet hope that made her heart race and her stomach twist. It wasn't much, but it felt like everything at the same time.
She was at the pantry, her hand wrapped around a cup of tea, when she noticed him standing by the door — just standing there, looking at the shelves like they held all the answers. His coffee in hand, his posture that same familiar, quiet confidence she had come to recognize. She could feel it before she even saw him: that quiet presence that never failed to make her heart jump.
But nothing had changed. He didn't say anything. He didn't smile. He didn't even look her way for more than a second.
It was just like before.
She glanced at him, maybe too quickly, and turned away, heart skipping a beat. Was he looking at her, too? Or was it just her imagination? She couldn't be sure. The thoughts swirled, tangled up in the dizziness of unspoken things.
And then there was the door to the production floor. She was leaving, trying to slip by unnoticed, but the moment their eyes met, she froze. A split second. That's all it took.
It wasn't like before, when he didn't seem to notice her at all. No. This time, she was sure. He looked. And it felt like the whole world paused.
But that was it. The moment was already slipping away, already out of her reach. She looked down at her shoes, pretending to focus on something, anything other than the truth staring her in the face. Nothing had changed. Nothing was ever going to change.
And then there was the convenience store. He was there, standing in the aisle, the quiet hum of the coolers in the background. She didn't know why she still found herself hoping. Why she still found herself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.
She walked away quickly, almost running, her mind screaming at her to stop overthinking, stop imagining things that weren't there. Maybe he had looked, but it was nothing more than a passing moment. Maybe he hadn't looked at all. Maybe he never would.
She wasn't sure if it was hope that was slowly killing her or if it was the certainty that she would never really know.
But every time they crossed paths, there was that pull — that electric tension — that made her feel like she was standing too close to something dangerous and beautiful all at once.
And yet, the silence between them stretched longer, more unbearable with each passing day. The small glances, the fleeting looks, the moments that were so close to something real... but never quite there.
Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe she was becoming delusional, imagining things where there were none. But the ache in her chest told her otherwise.
She wasn't sure what she had hoped for. A friendship? A connection? Something more?
All she knew was that what had once felt like a possible beginning was now just another chapter of silence.
So, she kept her head down, kept moving, kept pretending that nothing was wrong, even when her heart kept hoping for something it knew it would never get.