That night marked the beginning of something unspoken but undeniably real. They hadn't crossed the line - not physically - but the emotional intimacy was growing stronger by the day. It was there in the way he lingered when handing back her essays, in the extra second he held eye contact, in the way his voice softened when he said her name.

Elena felt like she was walking on glass - both terrified and thrilled. Guilt started to gnaw at the edges, but it was no match for the gravity that pulled her toward him.

One rainy evening, as she stood outside the library without an umbrella, Daniel appeared at her side, holding one above them both. "Let me walk you," he said simply.

They didn't talk much on the way to the bus stop. The silence between them said more than words could. His arm brushed against hers. Neither moved away.

"You should be careful," he murmured as they waited at the curb.

"I know."

He looked at her then - really looked. The rain framed them like a scene from a film, the kind that leaves a mark.

"I think about you more than I should," he admitted.

Her breath caught. So did his.

The bus arrived, and she stepped away - heart pounding, soaked in something that had nothing to do with the rain.