Chapter Five: The Boy in the Library
1216 Words
Mira had never liked the library.
It was too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that made every small sound feel loud. The turning of pages. The tapping of pens. The soft cough from someone sitting two tables away.
And today, it was making her nervous.
She sat at the far end of the library with three books open in front of her, but she had not read more than two pages. Her phone lay beside her notebook, face down.
She had been trying not to check it.
Trying not to wait for a message.
But the stranger had not texted her since last night.
Not after saying, Maybe I needed someone to talk to too.
Mira had replied.
Mira: Then you can talk to me too.
But he had not answered.
She told herself she did not care.
Still, she kept looking at her phone.
“Mira?”
She looked up.
A girl from her class, Tessa, stood beside her table with a book in her hand.
“You look like someone stole your money,” Tessa whispered.
Mira gave a small smile. “I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” Tessa sat down across from her. “That is what people say when they are not fine.”
Mira almost laughed. Her mother had said the same thing the night before.
“I’m just tired.”
“Tired because of school or tired because of love?”
Mira’s eyes widened. “What?”
Tessa smiled. “You have been smiling at your phone lately.”
“I have not.”
“You have.”
Mira quickly picked up her pen. “You should mind your business.”
Tessa laughed softly. “Fine. But when you finally tell me who he is, I will act surprised.”
“He is nobody.”
The words came out too quickly.
Tessa gave her a look but did not say anything else.
After a few minutes, she stood up. “I’m going to get something to eat. Do you want anything?”
Mira shook her head. “No, thank you.”
Tessa left, and Mira looked at her phone again.
Still nothing.
She sighed and pushed her chair back.
Maybe she needed air.
Maybe she needed to stop thinking about a boy whose face she had never seen.
She walked between the shelves, running her fingers lightly over the spines of old books. The library was almost empty in that section. Sunlight entered through the tall windows, falling softly across the floor.
Mira stopped near a shelf marked Literature and Poetry.
Amara used to love poetry.
She used to send Mira random poems at midnight and tell her that one day, Mira would fall in love with someone who understood the words she never said.
Mira swallowed hard.
“You look like you’re searching for something.”
She turned quickly.
A boy stood a few steps away.
He was tall, dressed in a dark shirt and faded jeans. His hair was slightly messy, like he had been running his fingers through it too much. He held a book in one hand, and his expression was calm.
Too calm.
Mira had seen him before.
Not properly.
Just around campus.
Near the department building.
Outside the lecture hall.
Once, standing beside the food vendors with his hands in his pockets, looking like he did not belong to anyone’s group.
But she had never spoken to him.
“I’m looking for a book,” Mira said.
He looked at the shelf beside her. “That is usually what people do in a library.”
Mira frowned. “Was that supposed to be funny?”
“Maybe.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
Mira turned back to the shelf, pretending she was not curious about him.
He stepped closer, but not too close.
“Which book?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at her. “Then you are not really looking for a book.”
Mira folded her arms. “Do you always ask strangers personal questions?”
“Only when they look like they need someone to ask.”
Her heart paused for a second.
The words sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
She looked at him properly.
His eyes were dark. His voice was low. Calm.
Her fingers tightened around the book she had picked up.
“What is your name?” she asked.
He looked surprised by the question.
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
For a moment, he only watched her.
Then he held out his hand.
“Ethan.”
Mira stared at his hand before shaking it.
“Mira.”
His fingers were warm against hers.
The contact lasted only a second, but Mira pulled her hand back quickly.
Ethan’s eyes stayed on her face.
“Mira,” he repeated quietly, like he was testing how her name sounded.
A strange warmth moved through her chest.
She hated it.
She did not know him.
“You study here?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What department?”
He smiled slightly. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“You are the one who started talking to me.”
“That is true.”
Before Mira could reply, her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She froze.
Ethan’s eyes moved toward the sound.
Slowly, Mira took out her phone.
A message had appeared.
Stranger: You look better when you smile.
Her breath caught.
She looked up immediately.
Ethan was watching her.
Not smiling now.
Just watching.
Mira’s heart began to race.
No.
It could not be.
There were hundreds of students on campus. Ethan could be anyone. The stranger could be anyone.
But his voice.
His eyes.
The way he spoke like he knew things he should not know.
“Mira?” Ethan said softly.
She looked at him.
“Are you okay?”
Her phone vibrated again.
Another message.
Stranger: You look scared.
Mira’s fingers went cold.
She looked from the screen to Ethan.
He was still standing in front of her, one hand holding his book, his face unreadable.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
Ethan’s expression changed slightly.
“What do you mean?”
Mira took a step back.
Her heartbeat was too loud.
Too fast.
She wanted to ask him if he was the one behind the messages. She wanted to demand the truth.
But something stopped her.
Maybe fear.
Maybe curiosity.
Maybe the fact that she was not ready for the mystery to end.
“I have to go,” she said quickly.
Ethan stepped aside.
He did not try to stop her.
But as Mira walked away, she heard him speak behind her.
“See you around, Mira.”
She stopped for half a second.
The same words.
The same calm voice.
Her phone vibrated one last time.
Stranger: Goodbye for now.
Mira did not turn around.
She walked faster until she reached the library exit, her heart still beating hard against her chest.
Outside, the sun was bright, students were laughing, and everything looked normal.
But Mira knew something had changed.
She had finally met someone who might be her stranger.
And somehow, that made her want to run away from him—
and know everything about him at the same time.
- Writer
