The sixth house.
That's all she thought about now when she looked out her window.
Not the sky.
Not the fog.
Just the quiet, unremarkable house tucked between two flowering towers — the one she'd passed a hundred times before without looking.
Now she couldn't stop.
She told herself it was coincidence.
He'd probably just moved there. Probably nothing meant by it. The universe didn't weave fate into street numbers.
And yet, her steps had become slower every time she reached the sidewalk.
Every time she passed it.
Every time she wondered if he was behind that door, listening.
Watching.
Two days after the accidental encounter, it happened again.
Ayra had just come back from the apothecary down the road — her sleeves rolled, her robe a little wrinkled, a soft bag of enchanted herbs dangling from her fingers. Her mind wasn't even on him.
Until he appeared.
Walking toward her.
Same street.
Same slow steps.
Same unreadable stillness in his expression.
This time, she saw him first.
She froze for a second, deciding — turn around, or keep walking?
She kept walking.
They met halfway.
A single sidewalk between them.
No words.
No reaction.
Just the wind catching her hair, the lanterns above them swaying gently, and his gaze brushing hers like the faintest touch — not enough to scar, but enough to stay.
She expected him to pass without looking.
But he didn't.
He looked.
Right at her.
And she almost hated how calm it felt.
He didn't smirk. Didn't greet her.
Didn't stop walking.
But in the moment their eyes met, it felt like the air folded between them.
And Ayra, for the first time since she met him, looked away first
When she reached her door, she closed it gently. Too gently.
She dropped the herb bag on the table, leaned back against the wall, and exhaled like she had held her breath for years.
Why didn't he speak?
Why didn't she?
She told herself again that she didn't care.
That silence was harmless.
That glances were just glances.
That he wasn't anything.
But when she stepped to her mirror to unpin her hair, she noticed it:
Her cheeks were warm.
She didn't even remember blushing.