I turned another page.
The words blurred for a moment, not because the writing was bad, but because my mind kept drifting. The quiet library, the soft scrape of Miles’s pencil against paper, the warmth of the mug near my hand. Everything felt suspended, like time had slowed just enough for me to breathe.
I didn’t hear him at first.
Not the footsteps.
Not the door.
I only felt it.
That shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable. The kind that made the fine hairs on my arms rise.
I looked up.
Aiden stood near the shelves, arms crossed, posture stiff like he was bracing for impact. He hadn’t seen me notice him yet. His jaw was clenched, his gaze fixed somewhere past me, not quite meeting my eyes.
My stomach tightened instantly.
Miles noticed too.
He paused mid-sketch and glanced up,
