SWIPE RIGHT FOR THE ALPHA

CHAPTER EIGHT

ARIA

I pushed open the heavy library doors, the familiar scent of aged paper and polished wood washing over me like a quiet, comforting embrace. The hum of fluorescent lights above and the soft shuffle of pages felt like a small refuge from the chaos of the hallways. I inhaled slowly, letting the calm settle over my shoulders, and moved toward my usual spot by the window, spreading out my biology notebook and textbook on the table.

“Aria?” Mrs. Linton’s gentle voice called from behind the circulation desk.

I looked up to see her peering at me over her glasses. She was the librarian, her silver hair pulled into a neat bun, and she had that knowing, patient smile she always wore with regular students like me.

“If it isn't the brightest of all, coming to her favorite place,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Everything okay? You seem… different.”

I swallowed, hesitating for just a second before shrugging. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a lot on my mind, I guess.”

She studied me for a long moment, her sharp eyes softening. “Alright. Just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You know this is your space if you need it.”

I managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Linton. I really appreciate it.”

With that, I moved toward my table. For a brief second, I allowed myself a breath, letting the familiar calm of the library wash over me. But as soon as I opened my notebook, the words swam on the page. My pencil hovered uselessly as my mind wandered.

I had intended to review the human system — the heart, the lungs, the nerves — just enough to stay ahead in class or maybe find the answers I needed for Adrain. There had to be some biological explanation, Mr Thorne didn't know about else, what would be the logical explanation for what I saw. But it was impossible to focus.

My mother’s words from that morning kept replaying in my head, sharp and insistent:

“Aria, I can’t keep covering everything. We have bills, responsibilities… you have to help, but instead you keep on doing free tutorials.”

Her voice had been gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. The lecture should have motivated me, but instead it left a knot of frustration in my chest. I wanted to argue, to tell her I was already doing enough, that school was already a job of its own, but I hadn’t.

Instead, her words had burrowed into my mind and refused to leave.

I scribbled a few notes in my biology notebook, but they didn’t stick. Heart pumps blood. Brain sends signals. Lungs… The terms blurred together, meaningless against the weight of my mother’s expectations. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to push the frustration away, but it lingered stubbornly, pressing against my ribs like a hand I couldn’t shake off.

Why did life always demand more before I was ready? Responsibility, work, bills — it all felt like a mountain on my shoulders while I was still trying to figure out how to breathe under it.

My stomach growled sharply, reminding me that I’d skipped breakfast in my attempt to avoid eating the soup from last night. Even my body was reminding me of its own needs, separate from everything else.

I leaned back in my chair, staring out the library window at the courtyard below. Students wandered lazily across the green, their ordinary lives so distant from the pressure tugging at me from home.

A job to help with the bills. It wasn’t just a suggestion; it was a necessity. My mother had looked tired this morning, a weariness in her eyes I couldn’t ignore. And suddenly, the quiet library, my sanctuary, felt too constrained, like the walls were pressing in with every anxious thought.

I closed my notebook with a frustrated snap and shoved it into my bag. Maybe a short break would help — maybe food, maybe fresh air, maybe a chance to forget for a few minutes that the world demanded more from me than I could give.

As I walked past the shelves, Mrs. Linton’s voice stopped me again. “Leaving early today?” she asked, a trace of concern in her tone.

I nodded quickly. “Yes… I just need a break. Need to eat something.”

She hesitated, studying me like she could see straight through my attempt at composure. “Are you sure? You don’t seem yourself today.”

“I’m sure,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t press further. “Alright… take care of yourself, Aria.”

I nodded again and stepped out, letting the weight of her watchful gaze linger for a moment longer before fading as I walked down the hall toward the cafeteria.

By the time I reached the cafeteria, my mind was still half in the library, half on my mother’s warning. I grabbed a tray and piled it with my usual — sandwich, apple, and a bottle of water — and began weaving through the crowd, scanning for a free seat. My thoughts tangled with flashbacks of my mother’s tired expression, the weight of bills, and the quiet insistence that I grow up faster than I wanted.

I tried to shake off the tension by focusing on something simple: the crisp bite of the apple, the sound of the tray sliding against the table, the way the sunlight fell across the cafeteria floor. But the knots of frustration and worry lingered stubbornly, shadowing every movement.

Then it happened. Someone bumped into me from the side.

The tray jolted violently, and my coffee — hot, dark, and unforgiving — tipped over, spilling across the front of my dress.

I froze, a scream caught in my throat.

“What the hell—”

Heat shot through my chest, sharp and shocking. My breath caught as I looked down, watching dark liquid bloom across my dress like some cruel stain of fate. Instinct kicked in,my hands flew to it, pressing hard, but it was useless. The coffee just kept spreading, soaking in deeper.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, heart pounding like crazy. I could smell it — burnt coffee mixed with panic — and suddenly, everything around me felt too loud. The clatter of trays, laughter, footsteps... it all blurred into one awful noise that made my head spin.

I turned, hoping maybe it was an accident, that someone would at least say sorry.

But of course not.

There she was — Cassie. The school’s golden girl, Adrian’s girlfriend, standing there with that perfect hair and her perfect smirk. She wasn’t even pretending to care. She was laughing — actually laughing — like the whole thing was some kind of joke.

For a second, words caught in my throat. I wanted to say something, anything, but my tongue just wouldn’t move. My fingers trembled against the soaked fabric, and I could feel the heat sinking into my skin.

A few students turned their heads, whispering. I didn’t need to hear what they said — I could already feel it. They were amused with what has happened.

My stomach twisted, hard. This morning was supposed to be normal — just breakfast, maybe some peace before class. But no. Life had other plans.