It was still early—too early for a Saturday—when my phone buzzed noisily on the nightstand, dragging me out of a deep sleep. Groggy and half-conscious, I reached for it with a scowl, barely managing to squint at the screen before hitting decline. Whoever it was had officially made my list of enemies for the day. I had stayed up late gisting with Nadia, and sleep had only just begun to work its magic.
But a few minutes later, it rang again.
I groaned into my pillow. Persistent much? With a huff, I snatched the phone and answered, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice.
"Hello?"
"Hey, baby girl!" came Nadia's bright, too-cheerful voice from the other end. "How are you still sleeping? Wake up, sleepyhead!"
I rolled onto my back, squinting at the ceiling. "I should be asking you how you're awake. Didn't we both go to bed after 2 a.m.? You're lucky it's you—I was ready to cuss out whoever dared to interrupt my beauty sleep this early."
She burst into laughter, and despite myself, I smiled. Her energy was annoyingly contagious.
"Get ready by eleven o'clock," she said. "I'm coming to pick you up. Let's go grab lunch—with my brother."
That got my attention.
It's strange how some people come into your life like they were always meant to be there. That's how it felt with Nadia. What started as a chance meeting in the library quickly became one of the most effortless friendships I'd ever known. In a place that often felt too fast, too unfamiliar, and way too demanding, she became my anchor—steady, sharp, and warm in all the right ways. We'd fallen into a rhythm that made everything feel a little lighter. Study sessions that turned into late-night banter, whispered jokes over lecture notes, vending machine coffee that tasted suspiciously better when we drank it together. She was sarcastic and kind in equal measure and had this way of listening that made you spill your soul without realizing it. I never had to pretend with her—not about the pressure I was under, the course switch looming over me, or even the moments I felt like I didn't belong.
She talked about her brother often—mostly in offhand comments. "My brother says I overthink everything," or "Ugh, that reminds me of something he did in his first year." But every time I asked more—his name, his department, something—she'd either dodge the question or smile like she was keeping a secret. Eventually, I stopped pressing, and it became this running joke between us: the mystery brother.
So, getting an actual invitation to meet him? Definitely not how I expected to start my Saturday—but I wasn't complaining.
"I'll be ready before you get here," I said, stifling a yawn and finally swinging my legs out of bed.
After the call ended, I mumbled a quiet prayer and let the morning stillness settle around me.
Then I remembered the missed call from last night.
"Hey Mar," I said into the phone when he picked up.
"My girl!" Marcel replied instantly, his voice warm and familiar. "Thought you'd forgotten me already."
"As if," I said, grinning. "I was just… hanging out with someone ... Remember Nadia, I've told you about her. You 'll love her."
We caught up easily, slipping into the kind of back-and-forth that only years of friendship could create. I told him about my classes, my stress, Nadia, and some funny moments. He told me about the drama on his end, and I found myself laughing more than I had all week.
By the time I hung up, the day already felt like it was off to a good start.
By 10:50, I was dressed and ready—well, mostly. I'd changed outfits twice and still wasn't sure why I cared so much. It was just brunch with Nadia and her brother, right? But something about finally meeting the mystery sibling had me mildly on edge. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was the fact that Nadia always smirked whenever I brought him up, like she knew something I didn't.
At exactly 11:02, a knock landed on my door.
"I swear, you have the timing of a GPS," I said as I opened it.
Nadia stood there, casually cool in a loose denim jacket, and a crop top that somehow made Saturday mornings look fashionable. "Come on," she grinned. "You've kept the mystery man waiting long enough."
She led the way out of the hostel, chatting as we walked—about a quiz she barely studied for, some group drama in her class, the usual. But my mind kept drifting ahead, wondering what he'd be like.
We got to a small, tucked-away café just off campus. It had potted plants hanging from the roof, mismatched chairs, and the smell of fresh croissants drifting through the open door. It felt like a hidden gem, the kind of place you only knew about if someone let you in on the secret.
He was already there—seated at a corner table, scrolling through his phone with a glass of orange juice beside him.
"That's him," Nadia whispered, nudging me before we stepped in fully.
I wasn't sure what I expected—someone older, maybe more serious-looking. But he looked… comfortable. Broad-shouldered with easy air, a quiet confidence. He looked up when we approached, and the way his eyes met mine—direct, curious, warm—caught me a little off guard.
"Alora, meet my brother, Weston," Nadia said.
Weston stood up slightly to shake my hand. "So you're the famous Alora," he said with a teasing smile. "Nadia talks about you. A lot."
I raised a brow at her, and she shrugged, feigning innocence.
"Well, I'm flattered," I replied, sliding into the seat opposite him.
The conversation started slow, the way it does when people are still mapping each other out. But it didn't stay that way for long. Weston had Nadia's wit and a gentler kind of charm—more laid-back, less firecracker. He asked thoughtful questions, laughed easily, and somehow made me forget I was technically having brunch with a stranger.
We talked about everything from course stress, hobbies to favourite books, and somewhere between the food arriving and Nadia teasing him about his high school fashion choices, I realized I was enjoying myself more than I'd expected.
And when Weston looked at me after one of my rants about how confusing anatomy lectures were and said, "You've got that stubborn spark. You'll be fine," something warm settled in my chest.
It was just brunch. But something about it lingered.
After brunch, we stepped out of the café into the soft warmth of the afternoon sun. The breeze carried the scent of pastries and brewed coffee as we lingered near the entrance, not quite ready to part ways. Weston offered to walk us back to the hostel, and though the idea made my heart do an odd little flip, I nodded casually like it didn't matter either way.
As we walked, Weston and Nadia slipped into their familiar sibling rhythm—light teasing, shared inside jokes, and half-finished stories that made me feel like I was getting a peek into their world. I mostly listened, soaking in their bond, chiming in every now and then. Weston was different from what I expected. Calm, observant, and quietly funny, with a way of asking questions that made you want to keep talking. He wasn't flashy or trying too hard—he didn't need to be. There was something… steady about him.
When we reached the hostel gate, he turned to me, hands in his pockets, his voice casual but something in his eyes far more focused. "I'll see you around?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to sound as breezy as he did. "Definitely."
As he walked away, Nadia bumped her shoulder against mine, her grin practically smug. "So? Thoughts?"
I shrugged. "He's alright."
She snorted. "Alora. Please."
I laughed, but even after we returned to our room and got lost in another round of late-night studying, Weston lingered in my thoughts like a bookmark slipped between the pages of an unfinished story.
Something had started that afternoon—I just didn't know what yet. And somehow, that made it all the more exciting.