After classes ended, I headed to the library to get some quiet time to study. The usual chatter of students had thinned, leaving the room eerily still. I tried to focus on my notes, but my eyes kept darting to the shadows in the corners, convinced I was being watched.
I reached for my notebook, planning to jot down everything that had happened over the past few days. That’s when I noticed it: a pen. Sleek, black, and unfamiliar, lying across my desk. I knew every pen I owned. This wasn’t one of them.
My hands shook as I picked it up. Beneath it was a small slip of paper. I unfolded it with trembling fingers:
"You’re looking too hard. Don’t let them see you sweat."
My stomach dropped. Someone had been here, in the library, while I wasn’t looking. My pulse raced, and my heart thudded so
