Coming back from my parents' house had done me good. After a weekend of hugs, long conversations in the kitchen, and the comfort of my old room, I returned to the university feeling recharged.
Evelyn was waiting for me in the hallway with her usual energy. We laughed at little things, like a professor's exaggerated rush and the coffee machine that seemed to pour out more water than coffee. Slowly, routine began to take on a familiar shape.
In the courtyard, I noticed the tabby cat again. Every morning, it crossed the lawn as if it had a set destination. And there he was—the boy in the dark jacket, crouched down, hand open, offering food.
The cat recognized him before anyone else. It ran toward him with enthusiasm, tail high, as if greeting someone it trusted completely.
Without realizing it, watching that scene had become part of my own routine. It was strange: I knew nothing about that boy, but every day seemed to reveal a new piece of his silent enigma.
During the break, Evelyn and I walked distractedly across the courtyard, laughing at a silly joke. I was holding a cup of hot coffee.
That's when it happened.
I stumbled slightly and bumped into someone. The coffee almost spilled on me, but before I could react, a firm hand grabbed my arm and tilted the cup downward. The liquid splashed onto the ground, staining the pavement.
I looked up, ready to apologize.
It was him.
The boy in the black hoodie.
His gaze was cold, distant.
"Watch where you're going," he said, his voice curt.
Then he let go of my arm and turned to leave.
I stood frozen, heart racing.
"Helena!" Evelyn tugged at my shoulder, anxious. "You know who that is, right?"
I shook my head, still speechless.
"That's Rafael," she continued in a near-whisper, almost conspiratorial. "They say he's violent. That he got into a fight and left a friend in a coma. That he had to leave his hometown because of it…"
She paused, glancing around before lowering her voice even more:
"…and that his mother died of heartbreak. Now he only lives with his father."
Her words hung heavy between us.
But I barely heard them. My mind kept replaying the moment from seconds before: the firm hand pulling my arm, the quick reflex that kept the coffee from burning me.
I wasn't sure if I had understood it right.
But for some reason, all I could think was: he protected me.