In a world of logic, he's the only thing that doesn't make sense. Anantari lives for the quiet moments. As a writer, she's used to having the right words for everything-until she saw him. Ephraim wasn't supposed to be part of her story. He was just a boy with spectacles and a radiant smile that felt like a glitch in her carefully composed reality. She's HUMSS; he's ABM. Their strands are worlds apart, yet lately, those worlds feel smaller than ever. It's in the casual talk that lingers a second too long. It's in the eye contact that says everything they aren't brave enough to type. It's an unfamiliar, beautiful kind of wonder-a rhythm so rare it makes her heart beat loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. They're seventeen, navigating a feeling they don't have a name for yet. She used to just write about the world. Now, she's starting to realize that some heartbeats are meant to be felt, not just described.