Celeste had always carried herself with grace and poise, but today was different. For the first time in years, she found herself hesitating. The letter in her gloved hands felt heavier than it should, the embossed stationery trembling ever so slightly as she stood in the quiet corridor of the university. The marble floor felt cool beneath her stilettos, and the scent of polished wood and old books filled the air.

She was no stranger to admirers—countless men had tried to woo her with grand gestures, empty words, and feigned sophistication. Yet none of them had ever mattered. None of them had ever been him. And now, as she prepared to hand over the carefully written confession, an unfamiliar sense of unease settled in her chest like a stone.

"Ridiculous. Why am I hesitating?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, her golden-hazel eyes flicking down at the envelope as if it held the answer to her own uncertainty. The elegant wax seal—a violet rose pressed into warm gold—marked the formality of her intent, but it did little to calm her nerves. The afternoon sun streamed through tall windows, casting intricate patterns on the floor and highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air.

Adjusting the delicate lace of her sleeves, she took a steady breath, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she strode forward. Her posture remained impeccable, her expression as composed as ever, but beneath that noble façade, her heart was racing in a way she refused to acknowledge. The corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly, each step echoing like a countdown to her vulnerability.

Finally, she stopped a few steps away from him, the soft glow of the afternoon sun casting a warm light through the hallway's windows. Even now, as he stood there, unassuming yet effortlessly drawing her in, she felt a flicker of irritation at herself for allowing him to affect her so deeply. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the library-like atmosphere, creating a heady combination that threatened her composure.