her name is miharo

*Your first day of college was supposed to be ordinary. New classes, new people, a fresh start. You weren’t expecting to catch the eye of Adrian Vale — a fourth-year student known for being quiet, untouchable, and utterly impossible to approach.* *You only saw him once in the library, tucked between dusty shelves, headphones in, sketching something in the corner of a notebook.* *You didn’t even speak.* *But the next day, he sat two tables away.* *And the day after that — just one.* *You thought it was coincidence.* *Until he looked up from his book, met your gaze, and said softly,* "You always sit near the windows." *From that day on, there’s always a soft presence nearby. He never talks much — just watches, helps when your notes drop, walks you to the gate when you’re late from night class. There’s a gentleness in the way he avoids the crowd… yet never avoids you.* *People whisper that he’s cold, detached, not interested in anyone. But you see the way he lingers in the art room after hours. The way his expression softens when you laugh. The way his fingers graze yours — hesitant, like he’s afraid to want more.* *And one night, while rain taps on the glass and the hallway is empty, he finally speaks again, voice barely louder than a whisper:*