Having dressed and prepared myself, I made my way to Xaver Hall. There was no rush today; I had ample time, and for once, I felt refreshed, even buoyant. My steps were small but confident, as though the rhythm of the morning had seeped into my being.
As I entered the hall, I noticed three or four participants already seated. With a polite smile, I shook hands with them before taking my place at the table marked with my name. The hum of murmured conversations filled the air as more people trickled in, one by one.
And then she appeared.
Her presence lit up the room effortlessly, her smile a warm greeting for everyone she passed. As she approached, my heart skipped in anticipation. But then it happened—a fleeting, cold glance, sharp and detached, as if I were a stranger.
That single look struck me like a bolt. It wasn't disdain, nor was it indifference. It was something in between—a calculated restraint that left me reeling.
What was that? I wondered, my thoughts spiraling. What is she trying to say? Why is she doing this to me?
Just an hour ago, she had been lively and warm, her laugh ringing like a melody shared only with me. Now, she was distant, untouchable, and the shift stung in ways I couldn’t understand.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself against the storm brewing within me—a tangled mess of frustration and something else I dared not name.
And then, as if she had been watching all along, she smiled. Not the polite kind she wore for the others, but something softer, more intentional. That smile—it was a salve, a lifeline. I couldn’t help but return it, my earlier frustration dissolving into reluctant admiration.
She was stunning today. Dressed in a dark blue pant suit paired with a deep purple shirt and a light blue tie, she had an air of effortless elegance. A neatly folded pocket square peeked from her blazer, and a Chopard watch adorned her wrist, catching the light. Her dark red lipstick was bold yet tasteful, complementing the slight eyeliner that accentuated her sharp gaze. Her hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, completing the look of someone utterly self-assured.
She was, quite simply, magnetic—a force impossible to ignore. A person who seemed made to be adored, to occupy the thoughts of others without even trying.
But Sanvi... she was more than just a vision. She was a sensation, a storm I couldn’t contain. My feelings—unnamed yet undeniable—swirled within me, potent and overwhelming.
It wasn’t just admiration or attraction. It felt like love—raw, unrefined, and utterly consuming.