When I met him that night, I could only see how painful his eyes were. They were tired, too weary to even see. Someone held his hands and dragged him through the night and I looked back countless times to see those eyes again. I have always been fascinated by eyes, they tell you stories people often miss. He sat next to me but neither of us made an effort to speak. I remember him once asking me for a pencil, maybe that was the time when I fell for him.

It was not the lines of his jaws or the bridge of his nose that...