Whenever she saw him he would be scribbling something on a few pages. There was something rather strange and inexplicable about him. He would either speak a few words, or nothing. It was as if he had nothing in his life, except his pages. Everyone would wonder what he could be writing so intensely. He would spend all his day with pages and pen. He would write some and tear some. Perhaps, he was not getting his words right.

 She was amazed too, just like others and curious as well.

One day when he saw her sitting in the library and reading Sir John Green's book, he shifted his chair to her table and gave all those pages to her. He got up and went to get two cups of coffee, giving her time to go through those forbidden pages. When he came back he noticed that those pages were untouched. He pushed them a little towards her gesturing her to read. She was astonished.

What she read was a little more than astonishing! All he had done was to describe her. She never felt that beautiful before.He had described her big black almond eyes, her succulent lips, and her glowing face. For him, love was not to look beautiful, but to feel beautiful. Everything was so wonderfully poured into those pages that she could not say anything, she just embraced him.

She took a little while to realise that she was in love with him as well.

After all, love is like the fragrance of a rose, it finds its own way to a person’s heart.