CHAPTER 15
SEBASTIAN
I’m completely mesmerized by the starry sky until I realize Remi is watching me with a look so intense, I can’t quite read it.
“Staring at the stars always has this weird effect on me,” I admit quietly.
“In what way?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice, genuine curiosity, the kind that makes me feel like he could listen to me talk forever.
“Well,” I begin, “on one hand, I’m always awestruck by how beautiful they are.
But on the other… they make me feel small.
Insignificant, even. Like, we’re less than a speck of dust in the universe.
And it makes me wonder, what meaning do our lives really have, if in the grand scheme of things we count for less than nothing? ”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel a wave of embarrassment crash over me. “Sorry… I’m probably rambling again. I’m sure I’m boring you.”
I instinctively pull into myself, but Remi squeezes my hand, grounding me. When I glance at him, he’s smiling, crooked and warm.
“Seb, of all the adjectives I could use to describe you, ‘boring’ is right at the bottom of the list.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him in mock suspicion.
“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs, raising his hands in defence. “Don’t worry. And your question isn’t silly at all. Actually, it kind of overlaps with what I study.”
“Really?” I cut in, genuinely intrigued. “Tell me more. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about me, and you never actually explained what your research at Imperial College is about.”
His eyes light up instantly, and under that mop of messy blond hair, his whole face seems to come alive.
Up close, you notice all these details you might miss at a glance, the squared-off tip of his nose, eyes set just a little too far apart, lips that always seem caught between a smirk and a pout.
On their own, none of it should work. But together, they’re oddly perfect. Completely captivating.
I swallow hard, trying to keep a lid on the wave of desire rising inside me like a slow, steady tide.
“You really want to know?” he asks, clearly surprised. “Quantum physics isn’t exactly a crowd-pleaser outside the field…”
“Of course I want to know!” I cut him off, maybe a little too eagerly. “I think it’s genuinely fascinating. You’ll just have to explain it in really, really simple words if you want me to keep up.”
I glance at him sheepishly. “I’ve always been a bit of a disaster when it comes to science.”
“I’ll try,” he says, and adds a wink that could honestly stop my heart.
I groan and roll my eyes, mostly to keep myself from melting, but by the time I look back at him, he’s already gone serious again.
“Earlier, you said humans are basically insignificant specks compared to the universe... but actually, it’s sort of the opposite. Even the tiniest particles, way smaller than us, can influence how the universe behaves.”
I stare at him, scrunching my nose the way I always do when I’m trying to concentrate. He notices, of course, he always does, but doesn’t say anything. He just keeps going, patient and quietly brilliant.
Remi carries on, his voice brimming with passion and quiet certainty.
“Classical physics deals with big things, objects you can see and touch. But quantum physics looks at the tiniest particles, like atoms, and even smaller. Still with me?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I nod, secretly amused by how animated he gets. His hands move constantly as he talks, almost like he’s trying to shape the concepts out of thin air. It’s ridiculously endearing. I could listen to him for hours.
“Great,” he says, clearly pleased. “Now here’s where it gets fun: quantum particles don’t behave the way we expect. They can exist in multiple states, be in more than one place at the same time. That’s called superposition.”
“So they can be in two places at once?” I blurt out. “God, I’d kill for that ability… it’d make my life so much easier.”
I sigh dramatically, and Remi shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh.
“You’re such a brat, Seb. Anyway, superposition directly affects how we measure particles. The act of measuring forces them into one defined state. So basically, just by observing them… we change them.”
I furrow my brows, and Remi pauses for a beat. I take the chance to jump in.
“But that’s like people!” I say, suddenly energised. “If I’ve got this right, measuring is like trying to get information, right?”
Remi nods, watching me closely.
“So when someone tries to get close to us, to really understand us, we’re automatically changed by the connection that forms...”
He tilts his head, thoughtful. “I suppose you could see it that way, in part. But trust me, there’s a lot more to it…”
“I’m all ears!” I grin, genuinely excited. Hearing Remi talk about his work, seeing him come alive like this, is completely fascinating. I settle in, ready to listen, not wanting to miss a word.
“Now comes the best part,” he says, his tone lighter, but there’s a spark in his eyes, like he’s been waiting for this moment. “It also happens to be the subject of my PhD: quantum entanglement.”
After a brief, theatrical pause, he continues.
“Sometimes, you find pairs of particles that are what we call entangled. It means they’re connected in a special way, and that bond remains, even if they move far apart.
For example, if you measure one of them, you instantly learn something about the other.
Or when one reacts to something, the other does too.
It always happens, no matter the distance.
It’s like they have their own secret way of communicating, one that defies the normal rules of physics. ”
He pauses just long enough to check I’m still with him, then goes on, clearly absorbed by the topic, like it’s not just academic, but personal.
“To put it simply, entangled particles can influence each other across great distances, as if they’re bound by some invisible force…”
My mouth falls open slightly. Only Remi could make quantum physics sound romantic, even if he probably doesn’t realize he’s doing it.
“…But we’re not done yet,” he says, that spark still in his eyes.
“There’s one more key idea: probability.
Quantum physics doesn’t deal in certainties.
It’s all about likelihoods. When we measure a system, we can’t say exactly what the result will be.
We can only calculate the probability of different outcomes. ”
“So you’re telling me even science doesn’t have absolute certainties?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Quantum physics doesn’t give you clear-cut answers, just a probabilistic view of how nature works.”
He looks at me then, those warm hazel eyes steady on mine. “Does that surprise you? For me, it’s the most exciting part of what I do.”
I can see it in him, how much he loves this, how alive it makes him feel. He explains it all with such clarity, such ease. I’d bet anything his students hang on his every word.
“Any questions, Seb?”
Truthfully, I have a hundred. The subject is vast, strange, and beautiful. But right now, only one question really matters to me.
“How did you get into quantum physics? When did you realize you wanted to be a scientist?”
We’re still sitting side by side, the night air growing cooler around us. Just as he’s about to answer, I feel a faint shiver run through him.
I doubt it’s the cold. He goes quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting somewhere far away.
A flicker of worry stirs in me. Did I say something wrong? But then his expression softens, and there’s something in his gaze I haven’t seen before. A flicker of sadness, maybe. Or nostalgia. Whatever it is, it feels real. And when he turns back to me, his voice is quieter than before.
“That’s a good question, Seb…”
I don’t say anything. I’m grateful he wants to share something so personal, but I don’t want to push him. I just listen.
He hesitates a moment longer, then continues. And I’m right there with him, hanging on every word.
“One evening, when I was about eight or nine, my dad came home buzzing, kind of restless, like he couldn’t sit still.
He said he had something to show us, but my mum and my sister Maude were busy.
.. I can’t even remember with what. So after dinner, he pulled me into the living room.
Said he wanted to share something special, just with me. ”
I catch myself chewing my lower lip, nerves fluttering in my stomach as I wait for the rest of the story. But Remi doesn’t leave me in suspense for long.
“Once we sat on the sofa, he pulled this long, narrow plastic container out of his bag. I remember feeling kind of let down. I’d expected something special, and that dull, rigid object definitely didn’t look it.”
Remi clears his throat and pauses, his voice steady, but his eyes far away. I know that look now. Melancholy, quiet, and lingering.
This story isn’t easy for him. I can tell it costs him something to tell it. And if he’s chosen to share it with me, there’s a reason. I want to understand.
Without thinking, I reach for his hand again. It’s cold. I hold it in both of mine, gently, trying to warm it, letting my touch say all the things I don’t know how to put into words. That I’m here. That I care. That I’m grateful he’s trusting me with this.
He seems to relax at the contact, and then he goes on.
“Eventually, he brought out this strange contraption from the cabinet, one of those old slide projectors my parents used from time to time. And that’s when I finally understood what was in the box: images.
But I still didn’t get why he was so excited.
Not until he hugged me and said those slides were special, rare, and valuable.
He told me he’d been lucky to find them. ”
It’s not at all the story I expected, but now I’m even more curious. What do rare slides have to do with quantum physics?