The rich aroma of coffee laced with the tingling sweetness of pastries greets Neva the moment she steps into the Bakery café.
But the breezy smile on Neva's lips falls away as she steals a glance at the mysterious man trailing behind her.
She lowers herself into her usual spot by the window before placing her handbag on the seat beside her.
The beautiful black bag was chosen to complement her deep wine milkmaid lace blouse,
paired with charcoal-grey flared denim.
No one is here either, not a customer, not an employee.
She ignores the mysterious man seated across from her, turning her gaze toward the window as she feigns indifference.
Yet he only cradles his face in his hands, a quiet smile playing on his lips as he watches her.
She tries to focus her attention on the quaint cottage-style facade of the bakery café across the street,
its pastel hues blending seamlessly with the serene charm of Vernellia.
Soft footsteps echo against the floor, pulling her gaze toward the young man approaching their table.
He probably knows her as a regular at the bakery café, for she is familiar with the waiter in the green apron,
the tag bearing the name Bournville Bakery& Café fastened around his waist.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, ma'am," the waiter says with a polite smile.
"It's alright," she replies, returning a smile.
"What shall I get you both?" His pen poises over the open pages of the pocketbook, prepared to take orders.
"I'll have the crepes with chocolate and strawberry fillings, please," she says. "And a cup of coffee as well."
The waiter nods, jotting down the order before turning his attention to the mysterious man. "And what can I get you, sir?"
The waiter is only met with silence, awkwardness lingering in the stiff air.
She bites the inside of her lip,
never growing accustomed to his strange, effortless behaviour.
Like now, his gaze still lingers on her, as if the rest of the world has faded away.
As if he sees straight into her soul,
intent on consuming her whole with some kind of spell.
"He asked you for your order." She tries to make her voice firm, but the warmth blooming in her cheeks softens the words.
He leans back, slowly lifting his gaze to the waiter, a bored yet dangerous expression settling over his features.
He makes the waiter nearly flinch.
"Have you had breakfast?" she asks softly.
He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
She turns back to the waiter, who remains standing there, silently observing them.
"He'll have the same as me," she says, before glancing back at the mysterious man. "Are you okay with that?"
He only nods, his smile deepening, and her heart melts like chocolate ice cream beneath the gentle warmth of the daylight.
⑅ ⑅ ⑅ ⑅
Of course, it comes as no surprise that the mysterious man has followed her from the Rose Byrne apartment to Bournville Bakery Café,
and now, all the way to Vernellia University.
Even as the imposing red-bricked walls of Vernellia University rise before her,
students buzzing around her through the grand cloisters surrounded by lush trees painted in autumn hues,
the intensity of the mysterious man walking beside her threatens to consume her whole.
Then Neva stops and turns to him. "You only said... until the university."
He tilts his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Right."
He withdraws a hand from his jacket pocket and reaches toward her.
And to her surprise, she doesn't pull away as his hand lightly brushes over the crown of her head.
An unexpected warmth flutters in her chest.
"See you later, Neva..." he murmurs, lingering over her name as he takes a step back, his gaze never leaving hers.
With a faint smile, he turns and walks toward the campus gates.
And she lingers there, watching until his familiar silhouette dissapears into the sea of strangers drifting around the campus.
Her fingers drift to the spot in her hair where the warmth of his touch still lingers. "Did he mess up my hair?"
She turns and walks on, only half-aware of her surroundings... as an unfamiliar hollowness blooms within her chest.
⑅ ⑅ ⑅ ⑅
Neva had already memorized the campus from her admission visit with her aunt and uncle almost a month before.
And that's how she easily finds her way to the lecture hall where the course meant for her is about to begin.
More students are still filing into the half-empty lecture hall, and anxiety tightens in her chest as she makes her way up the steps toward the towering rows of blue desks and seats rising in a gentle arc.
There have to be about five hundred seats in total. That's a whole lot of competition.
She settles into a seat in the middle row, which is almost empty save for a girl with glasses at the far end.
The girl is engrossed in her notes, books arranged neatly across the desk while a digital pen moves swiftly over her tablet.
Then, as Neva takes out her own book, unwilling to let herself fall behind because she knows the academic demands of this university will be high,
she wonders if she truly belongs here.
She has been homeschooled all her life, making this new experience feel equally thrilling and frightening.
Rising murmurs and footsteps swell around her as more students stream into the lecture hall.
A quiet prayer threads through her heart, and she's reminded that academics are only a part of life.
They exist to deepen understanding, offer guidance for the future to come.
And life is neither a race nor a competition.
She only has to do her best, and use the gifts the Lord has given her to serve Him faithfully.
She's here to learn, to live, to seek purpose, and to tend her own little garden in some quiet corner of this world.
A soft sigh escapes her.
Her fingertips wander over the pages before her.
Life shouldn't be so frightening, so burdened by judgment, or simply endured.
It should be lived in pursuit of the small, sacred slices of warmth and happiness.
She'll linger by. She'll make sure of it.
She can already feel her love for English literature.
And after placing among the top five in the entrance examination out of thousands of candidates, she ought to believe a little more in her Father.
A presence stirs behind her, and she lifts her gaze to a beautiful pair of amber eyes.
The young woman extends a hand toward her.
"Hi! I'm Emma!" she says with a bright smile that instantly lightens the air around them.
"Hi," Neva replies, slipping her hand into hers. "I'm Neva."
"Can I ask you something?" she asks, sliding the bag from her shoulder as she settles into the seat beside her.
Neva nods. "Sure."
"Do you like Rhett?" she asks, her gaze narrowing ever so slightly as if studying Neva's face the faintest reaction.
"Huh?" Neva blinks, confused.
Then, hesitantly, she murmurs, "Oh... yeah, I guess I like red."
Emma's eyes brighten as she leans in. "Can I ask you another question?"
Neva nods. "Ask away."
"Is he your boyfriend?" Emma asks, studying her expression closely.
"What?" Neva frowns, bewildered as she tries to pull at the strings of Emma's words.
When did people start dating colours?
"Girl~" she exclaims, leaning back with her arms crossed, disappointment written all over her face. "The guy you were with at the campus gates? Does that ring a bell?"
A flustered jolt shoots through Neva's nerves. "His name is red? As in the colour red?"
"Wait, so you don't even know his name?" Surprise flickers in Emma's eyes.
Heat rises to Neva's cheeks.
Emma shakes her head with a soft chuckle. "By the way, no. His name is Rhett." She raises a finger, spelling it out carefully. "R–H–E–T–T."
Then she tilts her head, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "I guess?"
"At least that's what my boyfriend calls him," she adds, a grin spreading across her lips.
Neva nods slowly, brightening at the unexpected but pleasing revelation. Finally, she has a name for her mysterious man.
Still unable to contain the curiosity stirring in her chest,
she asks, "How do you know him?"
Emma looks up at her, a pen caught between her lips as she pulls out her books.
She lowers it, her tone lifting with a lovely ease. "He owns a car maintenance workshop. I visit my boyfriend there quite often, he works for Rhett,
so I've run into him a few times."
Then her brows arch mischievously, her eyes glinting with amusement as she catches the curiosity blooming across Neva's face. "Isn't he a looker?
So many girls gush over him, but I've never seen him with anyone except you."
Neva just watches her, a blend of strange, comforting feelings stirring in her chest, though she quickly pushes it away.
"Imagine my surprise when I saw you with him," Emma says, her grin ever lingering.
"Are you falling for him, girl?" She leans back and flashes her two thumbs up.
"You have my full support! Like really, you two look like a match made in heaven!"
Neva shakes her head, holding up a hand. "I just wanted to know his name."
A knowing smirk curves Emma's lips.
"That's how every love story begins, girl."
Whatever.
Neva can't help the smile blooming across her lips.
She already likes this pretty, chestnut-haired girl.
Maybe university won't be as depressing as she'd dreaded.
But... his name... really is Rhett.