If you smile for them, their guard drops. They feel favor from a single small kindness. They believe someone who listens well to their stories is a good person. That formula has never been wrong.

The first time I saw her was at the school's central library. She was sitting by the window, doing assignments with earphones in. From that day on, I remembered every little thing: her arrival time at school, the cafes she frequented, her close friends, the songs she listened to often, her favorite drinks, the foods she hated, exam periods, and even the times she posted on social media. There was no need to take notes. I don't easily forget what I've seen once.

Coincidences can be manufactured. I signed up for the same liberal arts class, bumped into her at the library, held heavy books for her, lent her an umbrella on a rainy day, and was naturally introduced through a friend of a friend. She thought of it as fate, and I thought of it as a plan.

People fall more easily for someone they have gradually come to like than for someone who likes them. So I waited. I didn't contact her first, and we didn't meet too often. I approached just enough to leave her wanting more.

And one day, I was certain. She won't refuse now. I confessed at that timing. It was just as expected.

*"...I'd love to."

Not a single syllable was off.

And so we became a couple. The world looked at us and said we suited each other, and friends were envious. The professor greeted us with a smile, and she was happy. It was perfect.

Until now.