A light rain fell that morning, just enough to slow the campus down.
Blair walked alone toward the faculty building, her jacket not completely dry.
In her head, fragments of yesterday’s conversation kept circling, like a sentence that refused to settle in one place.
If one day I tell you… will you listen?
Blair wasn’t sure when that simple line began to feel like a responsibility.
In class, she sat in the middle row.
The lecture moved on as usual, but one part made her stop taking notes.
The professor talked about a group project.
About collaboration.
About trusting a structure built together.
Blair stared at the word trust on the slide longer than she should have.
After class, Kattie caught up with her in the hallway.
“Why do you keep zoning out lately?” she asked, matching Blair’s pace.
“I’m tired,” Blair said.
“You’re always tired,” Kattie sighed.
“But this one feels different.”
Blair didn’t deny it.
“Katt… if you feel close to someone, but you know they’re carrying a lot, would you step back?”
Kattie stopped walking.
“This is about Pablo, isn’t it?”
Blair stopped too.
“Just answer.”
“Yeah, this is definitely about Pablo.”
Blair gave her a sharp look.
Kattie laughed softly, then thought for a moment.
“I’d stay.
But I wouldn’t force my way in.”
Blair nodded slowly.
“I’m scared of taking the wrong step.”
“You’re not the type to walk into someone’s life carelessly,” Kattie said with certainty.
“That’s actually the problem.
You overthink everything.”
That afternoon, Blair went to Brunne’s bookstore.
Just to sit, wipe the shelves, and read a few pages of old books.
Brunne watched her from behind the counter without saying anything.
“You’ve been coming more often lately,” Brunne said eventually.
Blair smiled faintly.
“This place is quiet.”
“Or maybe you’re the one who needs quiet,” Brunne replied.
Blair didn’t answer.
She put the book down and sat by the window.
“Brunne,” she said softly, “if we care about someone, does that always mean we have to interfere?”
Brunne looked at her for a long moment.
“Caring doesn’t always require action,” he said.
“Sometimes it’s enough to be present without trying to fix anything.”
Blair lowered her gaze.
“What if that person is hurting?”
“Wounds that don’t ask to be healed usually want company, not solutions.”
The words stayed with Blair longer than she expected.
When she stepped outside the shop, she saw Pablo across the street.
He was standing under the awning of a small café, staring at his phone, his expression tense.
Blair hesitated, then crossed the road.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Pablo looked up, surprised.
“My group presentation got postponed.
But the professor wants major revisions.”
Blair nodded.
“That sounds exhausting.”
Pablo exhaled.
“Sometimes I think I should’ve chosen an easier path.”
Blair looked at him.
“But you wouldn’t be happy.”
Pablo smiled slightly.
“You sound like you know me really well.”
“I don’t,” Blair said honestly.
“I just listen to the way you talk.”
They sat in the café for a short while.
Not long.
“You don’t always have to be strong,” Blair said before they parted.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Pablo nodded.
“I know.”
But as he walked away, Blair noticed something in his steps.
Like someone who wanted to believe, but was still afraid of falling.
That night, Blair sat in her room with the desk lamp on.
She opened her lecture notes, then closed them again.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Pablo.
Today was heavy.
But lighter because you were there.
Blair typed a reply, then paused.
She didn’t want to tie anything down too quickly.
You’re not alone.
She put her phone aside and stared at the ceiling.
For the first time, Blair wasn’t asking herself questions about Pablo, but about herself.
When did she start making this much space for someone?
And was she ready, if one day that space collapsed?
Outside, the rain fell harder.
Amsterdam continued as usual.
But between two people who had promised nothing, something was growing.
Slowly.
Uncertainly.
And because of that, it felt real.