The dorm was quiet, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound as Lyra sat cross-legged on her bed, her notebook open. Talia had gone to fetch snacks, promising to return quickly, leaving Lyra alone with her thoughts—and her pen.
Dear Stranger, she wrote, letting her pen move without thinking, I saw him again today. Kael. The one everyone whispers about, the one I swore I would ignore. He's impossible to read. Sometimes I think he's just teasing, sometimes… I think he's hiding something.
Her thoughts faltered as she remembered the small moment in the courtyard, the one where he had stepped just a little too close to shield her from Cassian's smirk. Protective, yes—but there had been something else. Something… human.
She hesitated, then scribbled on:
It was strange. I think I saw a crack in his armor today. A brief glance, a pause… something that made him less untouchable, less dangerous. I shouldn't have noticed, but I did. And now I can't stop thinking about it.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Lyra froze, pen still hovering.
"Room for one more?" Kael's voice came from the doorway. Low. Calm. Yet with an edge that made her stomach tighten.
She blinked. "Uh… yes," she whispered, too stunned to do more.
He stepped in, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but his eyes scanned her room carefully, lingering on her notebook. "You write a lot," he said quietly. Not teasing, not charming—just a simple observation, as though noticing the way someone breathes.
Lyra swallowed. "I… I do. Helps me… organize thoughts." Her voice sounded small, unsure.
Kael nodded once, then leaned against the wall opposite her bed, arms crossed. For a moment, he didn't speak. She could feel the weight of his gaze, subtle, restrained, almost cautious.
And then he spoke again. "Sometimes I wonder… if words on paper are safer than saying them aloud."
Lyra's pen paused. "I… I think so. They don't… bite," she said softly, almost to herself.
Kael's expression flickered. For a fraction of a second, his guard slipped. The confident, untouchable mask faltered, and she saw something raw—vulnerability, curiosity, maybe even trust.
This is him, she thought. The real him, not the rumors, not the gossip. And it terrifies me.
Talia's warning from earlier echoed in her mind—don't get carried away—but she didn't move to close the notebook. Something about this moment demanded she stay present.
Kael took a slow step closer. "Why do you keep reading into everything?" His voice was quiet, almost amused, but there was tension beneath it. "You notice… too much. It's unsettling."
Lyra blinked, heat rising in her chest. "I… I notice things," she said, a little too sharply. Then softer, "It's how I survive."
He studied her for a long moment. Then, quietly, almost reluctantly, he smiled—a small, fleeting thing, barely visible. "I see," he said.
Her chest tightened. That smile was nothing to most people. To her, it was everything.
Kael's eyes shifted toward the window, the courtyard beyond bathed in golden light. "You write letters," he said carefully, "because… you can't speak to me."
Lyra blinked. "I… maybe I can't."
He stepped a fraction closer, just enough that she could feel the faint heat of his presence without touching her. "Or maybe you don't want to," he said softly.
Maybe I don't, she thought, shivering slightly.
For a heartbeat, they just stood there—two people caught between distance and curiosity, words unspoken, letters unsent, emotions held tightly behind walls built long ago.
Then Kael's expression darkened subtly, almost instinctively, as if sensing something unseen outside the dorm. His jaw tightened, and a flicker of something… inhuman? passed through his posture. He didn't explain, didn't need to. The warning was clear: there are things she doesn't understand.
And Lyra's heart skipped.
After a long pause, he finally spoke again, softer this time. "Be careful. Not everyone here… notices what they shouldn't."
Lyra nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'll try."
He stepped back, his presence receding, returning to the untouchable aura everyone whispered about. But that small crack—the vulnerability she had glimpsed—remained etched in her mind.
Kael gave her one last look before leaving, his eyes lingering on her notebook. "Write carefully," he murmured.
Dear Stranger, Lyra wrote later that night, words flowing almost without thought:
Today… he came to my room. He spoke. Not just the Kael Draven everyone whispers about—the untouchable, the dangerous, the untouchable playboy. The real him. And I… I saw it. I saw the crack. I saw something human. I don't know what to do with that, and I don't know if I should. But it changed something. Even if just a little.
Lyra.