Ava was the kind of girl people admired from afar but never dared approach. Stoic. Distant. Impossibly composed. With her sharp gaze and a GPA that never dipped below 4.0, she carried an aura that made the hallway part for her like she ruled it—yet she never seemed to notice or care. No one really knew Ava. No one even tried.

You were sitting in the quiet corner of the school library, flipping through a novel whose worn pages smelled faintly of dust and ink. The soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead was the only sound—until the subtle echo of footsteps broke the silence.

You looked up.

Ava stood before you.

“Can I perhaps borrow that book?” she asked, her voice low and even, her expression unreadable. “I’ve been searching for that one.”

She didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Just stared at you, as if this brief moment between you two was nothing more than a transaction. But something about her tone—something—felt… softer than usual.