Chapter 3

I thought back to when I was sixteen and saw Zane for the first time in the library.

He was sitting by the window, sunlight spilling through the glass and softening the edges of his profile. With his head lowered, he moved a pencil quickly across his sketchbook, so absorbed in his drawing that it seemed as though nothing else around him existed.

In that moment, my heart skipped a beat.

After that, I started paying attention to him without even meaning to.

I learned that he was one of the top students in our grade, that he was talented at drawing and dreamed of becoming an architect, and that he was naturally reserved and kept most people at a distance.

None of that stopped me from wanting to get closer to him.

For all three years of high school, I pushed myself to do better for one reason: I wanted to get into the same college he did.

When it came time to submit our college choices, I gave up a guaranteed admission offer from a prestigious science and engineering university without hesitation and put Bayridge School of Architecture at the top of my list.

My homeroom teacher called me in for a talk, and my parents were just as strongly opposed.

"Tessa, with your grades in science and math, you could get into a much better school and choose a field with far better prospects. Architecture isn't right for you. It's a demanding career."

But I wouldn't listen.

There was only one thought in my head: I wanted to go wherever Zane went.

Throughout college, I followed in his footsteps until I had practically become his shadow. If he took an elective, I signed up for it. If he joined a club, I joined too. Whenever he went to the library, I found some way to sit nearby.

My friends all thought I was being foolish.

"Tessa, someone like Zane doesn't have room for feelings. If you keep chasing after him like this, you're only going to be the one who gets hurt."

I didn't believe them.

I thought that if I tried hard enough and held on long enough, eventually I would get through to him.

By graduation, Zane had received an offer from one of the country's most prestigious architecture firms. I turned down a much higher-paying position with an international company and applied to the same firm he had chosen.

During my interview, one of the panelists asked, "Why do you want to work here?"

"Because there's someone here I look up to and hope to learn from."

As I answered, I looked toward Zane, who was seated at the far end of the interview panel. He kept his head down, writing something on his evaluation form, and never once looked at me.

I was hired anyway, and I became his assistant.

For the next five years, I handled the endless details of his work, organized his files, brought him coffee, and stayed late whenever he worked overtime.

I had a hand in every project he designed, even if my part was little more than minor support work, and I never minded any of it.

I truly believed that if I stayed by his side long enough, one day that companionship would become a life together.

Then came the landslide.

The instant the rocks began crashing down and the mountainside gave way, I didn't stop to think. I threw myself over Zane on instinct and shielded him with my own body.

Even when the pain hit, a part of me felt relieved.

At least he was safe.

Just before I lost consciousness, I saw panic written plainly across his face and heard him shouting my name.

"Tessa! Tessa!"

It was the first time I had ever seen such raw emotion from him.

While I was in the hospital, he came to see me every day. He still didn't say much, but he brought me books, adjusted my hospital bed when I was uncomfortable, and quietly held my hand whenever the nurse changed my dressings.

Back then, I thought that nearly losing my life to save him might be enough for him to finally come to love me.

Looking back now, that sentiment was almost laughable.

After taking three days off, I returned to the architecture firm.