caelvea
This isn't a story about falling in love. Not exactly.
Laskar is a quietly unraveling philosophy student with seven failed relationships, a secret poetry folder, and no plans to let anyone past his carefully curated detachment.
Alma is a gap-year survivor who photographs the aftermath of things instead of people. She's not looking to be seen-especially not by someone who might understand her silence too well.
They meet at the second-to-last table in a café that's about to disappear. A place built from mismatched mugs, flickering lights, and the kind of quiet you don't realize you need until someone else holds it too.
Between static-filled glances, shared chargers, old Polaroids, and a poem that was never meant to be read aloud, two strangers start to rewrite what it means to be known.
Because some stories don't need fireworks.
Just a second draft.