4

Edgar Torn.

The weeks passed without much fanfare. The routine was the same: wake up early, face the traffic, teach classes, listen to students' questions, and at the end of the day, return home—alone. Always alone.

But inside, something had changed.

Since the day of the launch of her book, Sarah had entered my mind in a way that I couldn't— or maybe didn't want to — get rid of.

I started following everything she posted. I turned on Instagram notifications. Every story, every new photo, every motivational quote... it was like receiving a direct message, even though I knew she had no idea I really existed.

Yes, it was obsessive. I knew that. But it was also... necessary. It felt like I was studying a map. A map that would take me back to that good feeling I thought I had lost with Amanda.

That afternoon, I grabbed my backpack to leave college when my phone vibrated.

Instagram notification.

New story.

It was her.

A simple image, but full of meaning: an open notebook on her lap, a delicate pink pen between her fingers, partially written pages, and in the background, the reflection of trees and the outline of a fountain. The caption was straightforward:

Nothing makes me prouder than a pencil and paper. Starting my new book. Genre to be revealed soon.

I recognized the place right away. That park—the same one where I used to take Amanda on Saturday afternoons. Everything was better with her.

When I was exhausted and went there with her, everything in me relaxed, and I felt so good.

I took a deep breath, feeling a strange twinge in my chest.

I left my backpack on the car seat, put on my black cap, and started the car.

The city seemed slower at that moment. Cars were slow; traffic lights didn't change. Every minute seemed like an eternity until I got to the park.

I parked and started walking, pretending to be distracted but cautious of every detail. I knew exactly which tree to look for—the thick trunk, the stone fountain just behind it, a small curve in the stone path. My eyes scanned the place until I found her.

There she was.

Sitting on a bench, notebook on her lap, completely immersed in her world.

Her hair was tied back awkwardly, her forehead slightly furrowed in concentration, and sporadically a slight smile would escape her lips. It was as if she were writing something that made her happy. Something only she could understand.

I sat down a few feet away, on a parallel bench. I took out my phone just to look busy, but my eyes kept returning to her as if drawn by a magnet.

How do I approach her?

What do I say without sounding like an idiot?

What if she thinks I'm weird?

I stood there, mulling over my thoughts, planning approaches, trying to imagine if she would ever look at me the way she looked at the paper.

Then I heard footsteps and female voices approaching.

I pretended to fiddle with my cell phone, keeping my ears open.

“Hey, are you really going to that writing event at the central library?” asked one of the girls, sitting down next to her. “It'll be full of editors, bloggers, and even some big-name authors.”

“I'm thinking about it, but I'm not sure; don’t know if I’ll have the courage,” replied Sarah, laughing softly. “You know how I am... sometimes I feel a little lost in crowds.”

Does she feel lost in crowds? That was interesting.

Well, was getting to know her better now.

I kept looking at my phone while listening to the conversation.

“You write a lot. It'll be great! You'll meet plenty of people.”

My heart raced.

The central library. Literary event. Beginning writers.

It was the perfect opportunity. I was a teacher for writers; it was perfect.

I started formulating a plan right there. I could go as a teacher, as someone experienced in academia. I could elaborate on writing, offer tips... and then strike up a natural conversation. Simple. Without seeming forced. Without seeming... wrong.

I got up shortly after, as if nothing had happened. I walked back to my car with a slight smile hidden behind my lips.

This was my chance. A legitimate way to enter her world.

On the way home, I turned on the radio just to have some background noise. But I didn't pay attention to a single word.

My head was too full.

I thought about what it would be like to meet her at the event, reach out, chat casually, maybe even crack a joke to break the ice.

I knew how to behave in public. I knew what to say to sound confident, kind, and secure.

She didn't need to know that I saw her today. That I had gone to her to watch her in secret, to know her better.

No, that would be too much information. It wasn't time yet.

But it would be soon.

I was getting ready.

And when the right moment came... she would see me. For real.

And there would be no way to forget.