The conclusion she came up with...

"What are you staring at?" Felícia whispered in my ear, startling me.

"Nothing," I mumbled, quickly redirecting my gaze to my notes.

"If you say so" she replied, her tone skeptical, but she dropped the subject.

Once I noticed she had returned her focus to the professor, I found my eyes drifting back to Zachary. He sat just two seats in front of us, easily recognizable with that strikingly unique hair that set him apart from everyone else in college.

But the real question was: why was I so fixated on the brooding guy when I should have been paying attention to the lecture? Let's just say my curiosity about Zachary's peculiar behavior stemmed from that chance encounter we had at the restaurant.

Since that day, our paths had crossed unexpectedly on several occasions— in the hallways, at the cafeteria (where I accidentally spilled food on him), and even at my favorite coffee shop. Not to mention the school rooftop, where I once again spotted him.

To an outsider, these encounters might seem like mere coincidences—maybe even a string of uncanny happenstances. But honestly, I couldn't care less if it was Fate orchestrating these meetings. That wasn't my main concern.

What troubled me most was that, at every meeting, Zachary failed to recognize me. Every single time, I had to remind him of my existence, often stammering a word or two just to jog his memory. Ridiculous, right?

And naturally, after our awkward exchanges, he would make a hasty exit, trying to escape as quickly as possible.

But today would be different. Today, he wouldn't slip away from me so easily.

I was pulled from my reverie by the professor's booming voice. "That will be all for today. In our next class, we'll dive into a new topic."

Without wasting a second, the professor gathered his hefty textbooks and rushed out of the room, a wide grin lighting up his face. I couldn't blame him—after a four-hour lecture, anyone would be eager to escape.

My attention snapped back to Zachary as he made a beeline for the door, moving faster than I had anticipated.

"Where are you off to?" Greg, who sat next to Felícia, asked as I hastily stuffed my materials into my bag. Felícia shot me a puzzled look, likely wondering why I was in such a hurry.

"Somewhere," I replied, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "I'll catch you guys in the cafeteria, okay?" I didn't wait for a response, instead darting toward the exit.

Once outside the lecture hall, I scanned the hallway, searching for one particular person. No sign of him. Just perfect.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I pondered aloud, "If I were Zachary Stone, where would I be?" Suddenly, a light bulb flickered to life in my mind, illuminating the answer I sought. Smirking to myself, I headed for the rooftop.

As luck would have it, my guess was spot on. There he was, on the rooftop, staring blankly at the sky with slumped shoulders. In that moment, he resembled the saddest being on Earth.

As if sensing my gaze, Zachary turned his head, and our eyes locked. That's when I noticed the emptiness in his expression. It wasn't sadness or despair—no, those would imply emotions. His eyes were hollow, devoid of feeling.

I sighed, taking a few steps closer. "You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and it's pretty clear you're hiding something."

Even though it wasn't as obvious as I claimed, I still sensed it. Zachary released a breath of relief, his demeanor shifting as recognition dawned on him with my words. Just as I suspected, he hadn't recognized me until I spoke.

"A normal person might start with a 'hey' or 'hi,'" he remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes, though his lips remained in a tight line.

I waved my hand dismissively. "Normal is boring"

"Now, back to my question," I said, stepping closer and locking my gaze onto his. "What are you hiding, Zachary Stone?" A deep frown formed on his face. I could tell my boldness had caught him off guard, but he was doing a decent job of masking it.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I knew I should have let it go. It was none of my business, and I wasn't naturally inquisitive. But something about Zachary sparked an insatiable curiosity within me.

We weren't friends, and he definitely didn't know me. Yet, I yearned to unravel the mystery surrounding him.

"I've come up with a few theories about why you never seem to remember who I am," I said, taking a step back to respect his space. "Would you like to hear them?"

Despite his glare, I could see the nervousness brewing beneath his tough exterior.

He seemed to weigh his options before finally saying, "Shoot, I'm listening." He crossed his arms, trying to appear indifferent, but I could see right through his facade.

"Okay then," I grinned.

"Initially, I thought maybe he was just being an jerk, pretending to forget who I am. But that didn't add up. So, I considered that maybe he genuinely forgets me every time, like he has a bizarrely selective memory. But then I remembered we were talking about Zachary Stone—everyone knows one thing: he never forgets." I paused, hoping to draw him in further.

His irritation flared as he gritted his teeth and asked, "And what's your final conclusion?"

I couldn't help but smirk at his eagerness. "Ultimately, the only logical explanation I could come up with is—" I leaned in closer, whispering, "You have prosopagnosia."

I wasn't entirely sure at first, but from the way his eyes widened and his lips parted in disbelief, I felt confident in my deduction. Zachary Stone was suffering from face blindness.