They met in the library, once.
She had been sitting on the floor, knees pulled in, a stack of books taller than her confidence. A shadow crossed the page.
“Freshman?” he’d asked, gentle, curious.
She looked up and found Ethan Reyes standing there like he wasn’t already a name everyone knew.
That was how it began softly. Carefully. Too easily.
Eight months later, she was back in the same place, seated at a long table near the windows. The book in front of her was open to the same page for far too long. She wasn’t reading anymore. She was remembering.
Footsteps broke the quiet.
Laughter followed.
“Ethan!”
She didn’t lift her head.
Mia’s voice was unmistakable—bright, certain, already at home in his space. More voices joined in, familiar ones, confident ones.
“So are you finally making it official?” someone asked.
“With Mia,” another added.
She kept her eyes on the page.
A chair shifted. Someone inhaled like they were about to say something important.
“It’s not—”
Movement. Fabric brushing fabric. Mia stepping closer.
The pause after that was heavier than any answer.
No denial came.
A laugh cut through the silence. “Guess that settles it.”
She turned the page.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Then she closed the book.
She stood, gathering her things with care, as if the room hadn’t just tilted. As if she hadn’t heard every word. She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped away from the table.
She walked straight past them.
Not hurried. Not hesitant.
Right through the space where the truth sat unspoken.
Ethan saw her then. Really saw her. The stillness in her face. The way she didn’t look at him. Didn’t slow. Didn’t give him anything to hold onto.
Her hand tightened once around the strap of her bag as she passed.
That was all.
To everyone else, it looked intentional. A girl choosing her exit. A moment that didn’t matter.
But Ethan knew.
She hadn’t missed a single word.
And the worst part was not that she walked away
It was that she walked past him like she had already learned how to survive without being seen.
She disappeared between the shelves without a sound.
For a moment, no one moved.
The laughter that had filled the space only seconds ago didn’t fade—it stopped. Like someone had cut the audio too abruptly. Even the rustle of pages and the distant footsteps from other aisles felt too loud now.
Ethan stayed where he was.
His gaze lingered on the empty space she’d passed through, as if the air itself still remembered her. His chest felt tight, unfamiliar, like he’d missed something he hadn’t known was leaving.
Mia noticed first.
She looked around, searching faces for confirmation, for the approval she usually found so easily. It wasn’t there. Someone shifted uncomfortably. Another cleared their throat.
“So,” someone said, too casually, “practice later?”
No one answered right away.
Ethan finally moved—but not toward Mia.
He stepped back, gently undoing the space she’d claimed by leaving it untouched. The absence she left behind was louder than any accusation.
Mia’s smile faltered, just slightly. “Ethan?”
He didn’t respond.
The silence stretched, awkward now, heavy with something no one wanted to name. The story they’d been so sure of a moment ago no longer felt solid.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, like he was steadying himself against something invisible.
Whatever had just passed between them—whatever they had interrupted—hadn’t ended.
It had shifted.
And everyone in the library felt it.
They didn’t know why the air had changed.
They only knew that something important had walked past them without a word—and taken the noise with it.