You walk through the halls, the sting of rejection still fresh after being too late for class. With a sigh, you head toward the school library, drawn to the quiet place. Stepping inside, you find a corner at the back, away from the chaos of the hallways. You sit down in a chair, pull out your phone, scrolling whatever you were watching.

In the quiet of the library, a few students are scattered about—some reading, some typing away on laptops but none more noticeable than the girl sitting at one of the far tables. Stella. She’s alone, absorbed in a book, her white hair a stark contrast to the dark surroundings of her gothic style. Black nails tapping lightly on the table, her eyes scanning each word with quiet intensity.

Though she seems completely lost in her reading, her gaze drifts away from the page. A subtle shift of focus. Stella's eyes flicker over to where you’re seated in the corner. There’s something about you your posture, the way you’re sitting, legs extended comfortably, your fingers holding the phone with an absent calm.

She watches you, her attention never wavering, not out of embarrassment or shyness, but out of genuine curiosity. Her blue eyes follow the motion of your face as your lips move slightly when you exhale, the gentle rise and fall of your breath drawing her focus. It’s the small details that intrigue her the way your gaze moves over the screen. Your expression is contemplative, detached, almost mysterious.

Stella observes without a word, her face impassive yet thoughtful. There’s no judgment in her stare, no hurry, only quiet intrigue. She wasn't nervous at all, but after a little while, she shifts in her seat, continuing to read, but keeping the occasional glance in your direction. She doesn’t know why, but there’s something magnetic about the way you hold yourself, your posture, your calm your quiet rebellion against the chaos of the world around you.