Chapter 1
It may sound strange, but I’ve always preferred books more than people. Books never force awkward conversation, never filled the silence with meaningless small talk, never mock you, bullied you, or useless debates in your mind whether you should make the first move or not. With books, there is only peace, imagination, and the gentle sound of turning pages.
That’s probably why I was never a popular kid in school. I was nerdy, the kind that spent most of his time reading, wandering through the school library, or sitting alone during break and lunch. I kept to myself, spoke only when necessary, and beyond that, I was happy. I had my books and my peace, and there was nothing more I could ask for.
There was a library just two blocks away from my high school, and it quickly became my sanctuary. It was the one place where I felt safe. It was quiet, peaceful, and far from the noise of home. Everyday after school, I would spend hours there doing homework, reading, borrowing books, or simple enjoying the silence.
One Monday afternoon as usual I sat at one of the wooden tables, surrounded by scattered papers, working on a history essay due on Friday. Realizing I needed a history book to finish it, I got up and headed toward the history section.
Running my fingers along the spines, I moved shelf by shelf until I finally found the book I was looking for. But as soon as I reached for it, another book beside it slipped and hit the floor with a dull thud.
I bent down to pick it up. As I rose, my gaze drifted left, and there she was, standing across from me.
Her hazel eyes complemented her light brown hair, which was pulled into a messy bun with a pencil stuck carelessly through it instead of the half-up, half-down style she always wore. Black round glasses framed her eyes, and it struck me then that I’d never seen her wear them before. Her face was bare, no blush dusting her cheeks, no hoop earrings dangling from her ears. Instead, she wore simple silver studs, understated and unassuming. Even her lips were different, free of the usual red, pink, or glittery lip gloss, with nothing but a plain layer of lip balm.
Her clothing was different too. Instead of the crop top she always wore, the one that left her stomach on display, had been replaced by a plain white T-shirt cropped just enough to reveal a thin strip of skin. She paired it with blue low-waist baggy jeans and a pair of plain white sneakers, to complete her unfamiliar look.
In that moment, nothing else mattered. The book hanging from my hand, the essay due on Friday, I forgot it all. My eyes were locked on her, and I couldn’t look away. She was effortlessly beautiful, the kind of beautiful that stills the air from your lungs. I was so stunned that I probably looked ridiculous just standing there. Then, as she reached for one of the books on the shelf, she turned and our eyes met. For a heartbeat, nothing else existed. The world was silent, and time seemed to forget how to move. In that single moment, it felt as if the only two people alive were her and me.
The moment our eyes met, hers widened with recognition.
Her lips parted, as though she wanted to say something. For a second, I thought she would. But the words never came out. She closed her mouth, hesitated, and then suddenly turned and ran.
I stood there frozen, staring after her as she disappeared between the rows of books.
After a long moment, I remembered why I had come to this section of the library.
I carefully returned the book to its place on the shelf, got the history book I needed, and walked back to my wooden table. I sat down opened the book determined to get some work done, but my focus was gone. Every time I tried to read, and write my thoughts would wander back to her, to the look in her eyes and the way she had fled without saying anything.
"It was her… It was really her.” I mumble to myself.
