the gravity of him

The Gravity of Him

Days folded into each other with a strange rhythm. Classes, notes, meals — all seemed smaller, less urgent than the quiet, almost imperceptible moments when she caught sight of him.

Aurelia walked past the same benches in the courtyard every morning, and more often than not, he was there. Leaning casually against a tree, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the campus, yet somehow always landing on her. It was not an intrusion. Not exactly. But it was deliberate. And that precision made her heart thrash against its cage.

She tried to ignore it. Tried to tell herself she had nothing to feel, that the ache she thought she had left behind was gone. But the truth was simpler — and far more unsettling. She had begun to rely on him. On the subtle certainty that he existed somewhere nearby, waiting in quiet shadows, watching, always watching.

One afternoon, she lingered in the library longer than necessary. She had an assignment due, a stack of notes on her desk, but her mind kept drifting. And then, without a sound, he was there. Standing across the aisle, leaning slightly, reading a book he had no real interest in, watching her.

Her chest constricted. She looked down at her own book as if it could shield her, but her pulse betrayed her calm. She did not know what he wanted — perhaps he did not even know himself. And yet the presence of him, silent and impossible to ignore, made the air around her heavier, denser, like the world had tilted just enough to let him occupy the gravity of her days.

Over the next week, these moments multiplied. He appeared where she least expected it — on her path to class, outside the cafeteria, sitting silently on the stone steps when she needed a quiet moment. Each time, she tried to tell herself it was coincidence, but deep down, she knew it was not.

And with each appearance, a subtle shift occurred inside her. The walls she had built around her heart, the careful deflections and practiced emptiness, were beginning to crumble. She did not know if it was fear or fascination or something darker, something primal that responded to him alone. All she knew was that she could not stop noticing him, thinking of him, feeling the pull of his presence long after he had vanished from sight.

That night, she found herself at the window, staring into the darkened courtyard. The wind stirred the leaves, carrying the faint scent of rain and damp earth, and for the first time, she allowed herself to wonder: was it him who had drawn her here? Or had she, unknowingly, been searching for the shadow of someone who belonged in the quiet spaces of her life?

And then, she saw it. A figure moving through the mist, deliberate and slow, following paths only she seemed to traverse. She did not move, did not call out. She only watched, and in that silent moment, the weight of his attention pressed down on her chest.

It was intoxicating. Terrifying. Irresistible.

Aurelia realized, with a shock she could not name, that her days had begun to revolve around him. Not consciously, not by choice — but the truth was undeniable. She noticed when he was near, counted the moments when he was absent, and felt an inexplicable hollowness when he was gone.

And somewhere, beyond the visible, beyond the quiet steps and the watchful gaze, he lingered. A shadow tethered to her life, silent, unyielding, patient. Watching. Waiting. Pulling her, slowly, inexorably, into a gravity that only he could command.

Aurelia did not know where it would lead. She did not know what he would do next. She only knew that she wanted to see him again — and that wanting was no longer quiet.

It had begun.

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