The days that followed their chance walk through the neighborhood filled Zen with a restless energy. Each time she left the house, she found herself hoping to see Peter, her eyes drawn to the familiar streets with a kind of anticipation she could not quite explain. When she did catch sight of him, sometimes at the corner store or passing near the small park, she would smile and greet him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She asked him little questions, harmless ones about where he was heading or how his day had been, but his replies remained short, clipped, and cool. Still, Zen did not allow his coldness to dissuade her. There was something about his silence that made her want to press further, as though beneath every refusal was a hidden story begging to be found.
One afternoon she spotted him sitting alone on a bench in the park, a book resting on his knee. She approached without hesitation, her voice light as she teased, "You always read the most serious books, don't you? No fun novels, no stories to make you laugh?" Peter looked up briefly, his expression as still as ever, before answering, "Not everything has to be fun." His words should have ended the conversation, but Zen sat down beside him anyway, ignoring the stiffness in his posture. She tried again, this time with a gentler tone. "You know, people are easier to know when they let others in. It is not so bad to have a friend." He did not reply immediately, his gaze fixed on the pages in front of him, and she wondered if he was trying to read past her presence. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but unyielding. "I do not need friends."
His bluntness stung, yet it only deepened Zen's resolve. She leaned back against the bench, pretending not to be wounded, and allowed silence to fill the space between them. For most people, his words would have been enough to drive them away, but Zen remained. She knew the taste of loneliness herself, despite the glitter of her wealthy life, and she could recognize it in him too. The way he avoided others, the way his gaze grew heavy when he thought no one was watching, told her that his resistance was not born of strength but of something fragile he was desperate to protect. She did not know how to name it yet, but she felt it in the stillness between them, and it only made her want to understand him more.
Eventually Peter closed his book and stood, giving her a glance that lingered just a moment longer than necessary. "You should not waste your time," he said, as though offering her an escape. Zen watched him walk away, her chest tightening with both frustration and determination. She knew he wanted her to leave him alone, but something inside her refused to listen. She did not believe in wasted time, not when it came to someone who stirred her in ways no one else had. As she sat there watching the empty path where he had gone, she promised herself silently that she would not give up. If he thought he could keep her out of his world, then he had yet to meet the persistence of Zen Gomez.