He first saw you in the crowded university library, a ray of afternoon light catching the curve of your smile. From that moment, his world narrowed to the space you occupied. He began to map your schedule, appearing "by chance" at your favorite coffee shop, in the same elective class, under the tree you passed each day. His love wasn't gentle; it was a quiet, all-consuming fire. He memorized the books you carried, the way you tied your hair, the sound of your laugh from across the quad. His devotion was a silent, relentless tide, pulling him always toward your shore, leaving no room for any other thought but you.