Lira Vale had always been better with machines than people.
It wasn't that she disliked others — she just never figured out how to exist comfortably among them. Conversations felt like puzzles missing half the pieces, and the more she tried to fit in, the more she seemed to stand out.
Years of being misunderstood had taught her one thing: silence was safer than attention.
So, she kept to herself.
Her life followed a careful rhythm — work, study, home, repeat. And though she often told herself she preferred it that way, there was a quiet loneliness to it that she never dared name.
If not for Serin, she probably wouldn't even have a friend in this city. Serin had a way of forcing her way into people's lives — loud, unapologetic, and stubbornly kind.
And Lira, despite her better judgment, had let her stay.
At the technology shop where they worked, everyone called Lira "the quiet one." Some meant it kindly, others less so. She didn't mind either way. It was easier to let them think she was just shy, rather than admit she was terrified of being noticed.
At least, that was how things were — until he walked in.
That morning had been unremarkable. She'd tied her hair back, adjusted her name tag, and retreated to her favorite section of the store — the workstation aisle. It was quiet there, filled with machines that spoke in predictable patterns of code and circuits.
Then the door chimed.
A man in a dark jacket stepped inside, his gaze sharp and deliberate as he moved between the displays. There was something about him that immediately unsettled her — not danger, exactly, but a sense of purpose too heavy for this small, fluorescent-lit world.
She wouldn't have gone near him if her manager hadn't nudged her forward with a clipboard and a too-cheerful grin. "Customer in your section, Vale. Help him out."
Lira sighed softly, straightened her posture, and approached.
"Um... do you need help finding something?" she asked, her voice low, careful.
He turned to her. And in that moment, something shifted.
His eyes — pale gray, almost silver — flickered with recognition, like he already knew her. Then it vanished, replaced by calm composure.
"Yes," he said simply. "I'm looking for a system that can handle heavy software development and network analysis without collapsing under load."
Her mind instantly shifted gears. "Then you'll want something with at least a quad-core processor and eight gigs of memory. I can show you a few models that won't throttle performance."
As she spoke, the fear faded. He listened — actually listened — and asked questions that made her think. It was the most natural conversation she'd had with a stranger in years.
By the time he decided on a model, she found herself almost... disappointed that it was over.
Then, as she prepared to finalize the purchase, he looked at her again and asked casually, "Mind if I take your contact? In case I need help setting this up later?"
Her heart stuttered.
Most customers didn't ask for her number — and the ones who did usually didn't mean it professionally. But there was something steady, disarming in his tone.
Before she could second-guess herself, she scribbled her number on the receipt and handed it over.
He smiled, and she felt warmth rush to her cheeks.
When he left, Lira stood there staring at the door far longer than she should have.
"Don't tell me you're daydreaming about a customer," Serin's teasing voice broke through her thoughts.
Lira jumped, nearly dropping her clipboard. "Wh-what? No! I was just— checking stock counts."
Serin raised an unimpressed brow. "Uh-huh. Sure you were. I saw that smile."
Lira groaned, hiding her face behind her hands. "You're impossible."
"Adorable, you mean," Serin said with a wink. "So? Who's the mystery tech guy?"
Lira's voice dropped to a whisper. "His name's Kael."
Serin grinned. "Oh, I like that name. Sounds like trouble."
Lira's flush deepened. "He just bought a computer."
"And your number," Serin added. "Which, if I recall, customers don't usually get."
Lira sighed. "It's not like that. He just— he seemed nice."
Serin laughed softly. "You're doomed, Vale."
The next few weeks proved her right.
Kael kept in touch. Not constantly — just enough that every message caught her off guard. He never pushed, never pried. Their conversations drifted from programming theories to the state of the world, to little things like music or books.
He had this calm, deliberate way of speaking that made her want to listen.
Sometimes, she caught herself smiling at her phone before quickly snapping out of it.
Serin noticed, of course.
One afternoon, Lira sat at the counter, absently scrolling through her messages when Serin leaned in with a knowing smirk.
"Still waiting for him to call?"
"No," Lira said too fast.
"Then why are you staring at your phone like it owes you money?"
"I'm not!"
Serin crossed her arms. "You really are hopeless. Call him first."
Lira blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Call him. Invite him out. You've been talking for weeks, right? There's a tea place nearby — tell him to meet you there."
Lira hesitated. "I can't just— what if he's busy?"
"Then he'll say no," Serin said simply, snatching the phone out of her hand before Lira could react.
"Serin— wait—!"
Too late. Serin was already dialing. With a mischievous grin, she handed the phone back. "Your move."
Before Lira could end the call, Kael's voice came through. "Lira. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Lira froze, then exhaled in surrender. "I— I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
There was a pause, then his quiet chuckle. "Not at all. You caught me at a good time."
Serin gave her a silent thumbs-up from across the counter.
And just like that, Lira realized her heart hadn't stopped racing since she first met him.
For the first time in years, she wasn't afraid of being seen.