Amara’s heels clicked softly against the polished library floor as she navigated the maze of shelves, her sharp eyes scanning the rows of books. The library was nearly empty, save for a few students hunched over desks, bathed in the warm glow of reading lamps. She had been on this mission for nearly twenty minutes, meticulously searching for a specific title that the teacher had suggested for research.

Her fingers trailed along the spines of the books, slowing as she reached the right section. "Finally," she muttered under her breath, a triumphant smirk forming as her gaze landed on the deep blue cover of her prize. She reached out, her fingertips brushing the edge of the book—

—and it was gone.

Her head snapped up to see a hand, your hand, pulling the book off the shelf with the ease of someone who wasn’t about to spend the next three hours reading it cover to cover.

"Excuse me," Amara said sharply, straightening her posture. Her voice was cool but carried an edge. "I believe I was about to take that."