Nothing changed drastically after that day.
Blair still woke up early, still went to campus with the same tote bag, still sat on the same bench in front of the literature faculty building whenever she arrived too early.
Amsterdam remained cold in a polite way.
The campus stayed busy with the sound of bicycles and mixed languages.
But one small thing began to shift, and Blair only realized it after several days had passed.
She started looking around.
Not because she was searching for anyone.
At least, that was what she told herself.
That morning, Blair sat on a wooden bench near the library building, rereading her lecture notes while waiting for her next class.
The wind flipped the pages, forcing her to hold the notebook down with one hand.
She wore a thin cream-colored sweater, her hair loose because the morning felt too short to bother tying it up.
Someone stopped in front of her.
“If you sit there every day,” the voice said, “people are going to start thinking that bench belongs to you.”
Blair looked up.
Pablo stood there, holding two paper cups of coffee.
His jacket was open, his backpack hanging from one shoulder.
He looked… ordinary.
And because of that, his presence didn’t feel like it needed an explanation.
“Are you following me?” Blair asked.
Pablo handed her one of the coffees.
“I passed by here.
And you were here.”
Blair took the cup without thinking too much.
“What is this?”
“Americano.
If you don’t like it, I’m sorry.”
Blair took a small sip.
“I like it.”
It wasn’t a big statement.
But Pablo smiled as if it was enough.
He sat at the end of the bench, not too close.
They didn’t talk right away.
They just sat side by side, drinking their coffee, letting the morning move on.
“The studio was full.”
Blair nodded.
“Literature classes never get delayed.
We just run out of time.”
Pablo let out a small laugh.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“Sometimes it is,” Blair replied.
“But I like it.”
Pablo looked at his hands, fingers marked with faint traces of pencil and ink.
“I like my major too.
Even though…”
He stopped.
Blair didn’t interrupt.
“Even though not everyone agrees,” Pablo continued.
Blair turned to him.
“You don’t have to explain.”
Pablo shrugged.
“I know.”
Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t heavy.
It was the kind of silence that felt like a pause to breathe.
The class bell rang in the distance.
“I should go,” Blair said.
“Yeah,” Pablo replied.
“Me too.”
They stood up at the same time.
There was no promise to meet again.
No important closing line.
But as Blair walked away, she realized one thing:
She was no longer wondering whether she would see Pablo again that day.
She had already considered it possible.
***
The afternoon passed quickly.
After her last class, Blair decided to go to the library.
She sat on the second floor near the window, opened her book, but found herself looking outside more often.
The afternoon light fell softly across the long wooden tables, making the shadows move slowly.
She didn’t hear Pablo’s footsteps.
“This place always looks quieter from the outside,” Pablo said softly.
Blair turned her head.
“You startled me.”
“Sorry.”
He sat across from Blair, took out his laptop and sketchbook.
There were no questions about why they were sitting together.
No conversation about why they kept running into each other.
They worked.
Blair read and marked pages.
Pablo drew, erased, then drew again.
Time moved without sound.
Occasionally, their eyes met.
Briefly.
Not awkwardly.
When the sun began to lower, Blair closed her book.
“Are you heading home?” Pablo asked.
Blair nodded.
“Yeah.”
They walked out together.
In front of the library, their steps slowed.
“Blair,” Pablo said, as if something had just occurred to him.
“If one day I don’t show up… it’s not because I don’t want to.”
Blair looked at him.
“I understand,” she said quietly.
And for the first time, she realized that she already cared enough to understand.
They parted ways at a small intersection.
Blair walked home with calm steps, but her thoughts hadn’t fully returned to herself.
At the apartment, Kattie looked at her with a knowing smile.
“You look like someone who’s forming a new habit,” Kattie said.
Blair set her bag down.
“Don’t start.”
Kattie laughed.
“I’m just saying.”
That night, before sleeping, Blair stared at the ceiling longer than usual.
She wasn’t thinking about love.
She wasn’t thinking about the future.
She was only thinking about one simple thing:
how someone could slowly enter your days
without ever knocking on the door.