The voice cut through the noise of the terminal—a stranger brushing past with a rolling suitcase, phone pressed to their ear. Y/n barely registered them.

She could hear the hum of his own airport in the background—the same generic announcements, the same shuffle of travelers.

Across the terminal, a guy about her age leaned against a pillar, watching her. Dark hair falling into his eyes. Arms crossed. A slight smile playing on his lips.

He didn't say it loud enough for her to hear. But his eyes stayed on her.