"The most beautiful discoveries are the ones that were right in front of us all along." ~ Unknown
"She must've come home like me for Christmas Eve," Robert said.
Michael only half listened.
Selina was dressed simply in beige pants, a white high-neck full sleeves top, simple jewellery glinting at her ears and wrists. Her long black hair, usually loose, was swept up into a neat bun, exposing the graceful line of her neck.
Michael watched for a moment longer than he intended, then excused himself from Robert. "I'm going to play darts."
Asper's basement had been converted into a game room years ago. A dartboard hung on one wall; a full‑sized pool table dominated the centre. Michael chalked a cue stick and fell into the familiar rhythm of the game, letting the clack of balls drown out the chatter upstairs.
He played well. One by one, opponents came and went, each leaving with a handshake and a rueful smile. By the third round, a small crowd had gathered to watch, their murmurs fading into silence whenever he bent to take a shot.
He was lining up the final ball when a voice cut through the quiet.
"Hey, can I join the game?"
He looked up. Selina stood at the edge of the table, leaning forward to see who was playing. Her eyes met his.
"Oh, Michael, right? You play pool?"
Someone from the group answered before he could. "He doesn't just play it. He kills it."
Selina's eyebrows lifted. She studied him with fresh interest. "I'm pretty good at this. It used to be my favourite indoor game." She picked up a cue, the challenge implicit in her posture. "Let's play. I want to see how good you really are."
Michael nodded once, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He hadn't expected her to seek him out. Then again, she was a competitor.
He reset the table in silence.
She broke first, her shot clean and confident. The balls scattered, and one dropped into a corner pocket. She sank another on her second turn. On her third, the cue ball kissed the edge of the pocket but stayed out.
Michael stepped up.
He moved around the table with an economy of motion that made the game look effortless. Three shots. Three pockets. He paused to chalk his cue, his white hair falling forward to veil his eyes, and the onlookers held their breath.
Selina leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching. There was no impatience in her face, only concentration, and something else. A quiet admiration she hadn't expected to feel.
The game continued, point for point, until Michael pulled ahead by two. When the final ball dropped, the small crowd exhaled.
Selina extended her hand. He took it, her grip firm, her palm warm.
"That was amazing," she said, her smile genuine. "I didn't know you were this good. Let's play again sometime."
"Yeah."
She held his gaze a beat longer than necessary, then turned and rejoined her friends.
The party wound down after midnight. Guests trickled out in clusters, their laughter fading into the cold night. Michael lingered near the coat rack, pulling on his jacket, when he felt eyes on him.
Selina was across the room, seated on the arm of a couch. Their eyes met across the thinning crowd. For a moment, neither looked away.
Then Selina smiled, a small, unguarded smile, and nodded.
Michael nodded back.
After Michael left, the remaining guests, mostly girls, settled into a loose circle with fresh drinks. Asper was holding court near the fireplace, laughing at something Rory had texted her.
"Okay, but since when did Michael get so handsome?" one of their classmates blurted. "I mean, I knew he was good‑looking, but tonight? Did you see him? I can't believe I never noticed."
"He always kept his hair down in high school," another added. "It covered half his face. Now that he's cut it a little… wow." She turned to Asper. "You've been hiding him from us! How about matching us up?"
Asper snorted. "I didn't hide anyone. We're just friends. Besides, Michael's not interested in relationships. He's turned down everyone who ever confessed to him."
A collective sigh rippled through the group. "If only we'd noticed earlier," someone lamented. "Maybe one of us could've won his heart."
" No! It would be unfair for him to belong to anyone!" Everyone laughed at that.
Selina sat on the couch, her drink resting on her knee, her expression neutral. But her mind had drifted back to the pool table: Michael bent over the felt, his white hair falling across grey eyes, the confident flick of his wrist as the cue ball slid home.
He deliberately hid himself, she thought. All through high school, he was right there, and we never really looked.
She took a slow sip of her drink and said nothing.
That Christmas party marked the first time they'd spoken in three years. In high school, their interactions had been rare: a shared classroom, a group project, a few accidental glances. Nothing that hinted at the thread now beginning to weave between them.
But after that night, the thread kept appearing.
A few months later, another reunion. Another game of pool. Another quiet conversation that ended too soon.
Once, they ran into each other at a mall café, each with their own friends. They exchanged nods, ordered coffee, and sat at separate tables. But their eyes kept meeting across the room until it was time to leave.
And then another gathering. And another. Each meeting was brief and ordinary, easily dismissed. Yet each time, they found themselves drawn to the same corner, the same game, the same silence that needed no filling.
It was as if fate had decided they had waited long enough to truly meet. And it was only beginning.