Chapter 2 – Elara's POV
The world had color, but I only saw him.
Kael. His name had been etched into my mind from the very first glance, like an ancient script burned into stone. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—his sharp jawline, the way his lips curved when he thought no one was looking, the way his shoulders carried quiet strength.
That morning, when he entered the academy library, sunlight poured through the tall windows, dust swirling around him as if the air itself bent in reverence. He didn't notice me sitting in the far corner, though my body tensed as if my very existence depended on his awareness.
I had promised myself I wouldn't follow him today. That I would just watch from a distance, like a normal admirer. But the moment his fingers grazed the spine of a book, I knew my promise was a lie.
I rose quietly, my heartbeat thundering in my chest, louder than the turning of pages around me. I trailed him through the maze of shelves, each step measured, each breath shallow. He stopped at a table near the window, sat down, and began reading.
For a long while, I just stood there. Watching. Drinking in the sight of him like a starving soul. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his hand tapped absently against the wooden desk—it all became a symphony to me.
My fingers curled around the edge of the nearest shelf. If only I could be that book in his hands. If only I could be the chair holding him up. Anything, as long as I was his.
I must have been staring too long, because his head tilted slightly, and for a heartbeat, I thought his gaze would find mine. My stomach flipped violently. I pressed myself back against the shelves, hiding in the shadows, my breathing uneven.
I hated myself in that moment—hated the fear that kept me from stepping forward. But the hunger inside me was stronger. And so, when he finally left his seat, I followed.
Out of the library.
Down the garden path.
Through the courtyard where cherry blossoms had begun to fall, scattering like soft pink confessions.
I wanted to call his name, to claim him before the world could, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, my body moved faster, closing the space between us. My hand lifted, trembling, before it found the courage to grasp his sleeve.
"Kael," I breathed. His name tasted sweeter than any prayer, more sacred than any hymn.
He stopped. Slowly, he turned, and those eyes—deep, steady, unknowable—met mine for the first time. My whole body quivered under the weight of his attention.
"You don't know me yet," I whispered, though my voice shook with a certainty that felt ancient. "But I know you. I belong to you."
The world stilled. Even the wind seemed to listen.
"Nothing—not time, not distance—will change that."
I didn't let go of his sleeve. I couldn't. My heart, my breath, my very soul clung to him. Whether he accepted me or not, it no longer mattered. Because I had already decided: he was mine.
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