The change wasn't something that could be seen—it was something felt.
It was in the way their conversations lingered just a bit longer.
In the way their hands would brush, yet neither of them would pull away.
In the way Mahiru found herself thinking about Sam at random moments, and in the way Sam caught himself glancing at her when she wasn't looking.
It wasn't huge. It wasn't something they could point at and say, That's different.
But it was there.
One afternoon, as they sat together in the café, Mahiru found herself stealing glances at Sam. He was focused on his notebook, scribbling something absentmindedly. The sunlight from the window cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the slight furrow of his brows.
She had seen him like this a million times before.
So why did it feel different now?
Mahiru pressed her lips together, fiddling with her straw.
"Something on your mind?" Sam suddenly asked, not even looking up.
Mahiru flinched. "W-What? No! Why?"
"You've been staring at me for a while," he said casually, still writing. "If you have something to say, just say it."
Mahiru turned red. "I—I wasn't staring!"
Sam smirked, finally looking at her. "Then why do you look so guilty?"
"I don't look guilty!"
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Mahiru, you're a terrible liar."
She pouted, puffing her cheeks. "You're so annoying."
Sam chuckled. "And yet, you still hang out with me."
Mahiru bit her lip, looking away. That's the problem…
Because these days, she wasn't just hanging out with Sam.
She was falling for him all over again.
Later that evening, as Sam walked Mahiru home, the tension between them was more noticeable than ever.
Mahiru clutched onto his jacket—he had, once again, forced her to wear it since the night was cold.
"Hey, Sam," she spoke softly.
"Yeah?"
She hesitated.
She wanted to ask. Wanted to say something about this strange, new feeling between them.
But—
"Never mind," she murmured.
Sam glanced at her, then sighed. "Mahiru."
She looked up.
He was staring at her—his usual playful smirk was gone. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes…
His eyes felt different.
"You feel it too, don't you?" he asked quietly.
Mahiru's breath hitched.
Her heart pounded against her chest.
Because she knew what he was talking about.
The change. The warmth. The feeling neither of them wanted to name yet.
But before she could say anything—
"Goodnight, Mahiru," Sam said, stepping back.
And with that, he turned and walked away.
Leaving her standing there, her heart racing, realizing—
They couldn't ignore this feeling forever.
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