The law library had always felt like neutral ground.
A place where Elena could disappear into footnotes and precedent, where her name meant nothing more than a student ID number and her future could be reduced to margins and case citations. Today, it felt like a bunker temporary shelter from the rumors snapping at her heels.
She’d chosen the deepest aisle, the one that smelled like dust and old glue, where the shelves rose so high they swallowed the light. Her bag sat open at her feet, books stacked with meticulous care, sleeves tugged low over her wrists. If she stayed quiet enough, invisible enough, maybe the whispers would move on to someone else.
She reached for a heavy property law volume, fingers brushing the cracked spine
“Elena?”
Her stomach dropped.
She turned slowly.
Samee
