It begins with the rustle of pages and the quiet hum of a library. Jason, a man whose intellect is rivaled only by his heartβs complexity, had always found solace in the pages of books. His sharp mind, honed by years of analyzing behavior and solving the most intricate puzzles, often found refuge in the worlds woven by authors long gone.
But today, as he stood in front of the literature section, there was something different in the air. The scent of old paper and ink didnβt seem to be enough to calm his thoughts. His gaze flickered to the corner of the room, where you sat, tucked into a chair, your nose buried deep in a book. It was a scene he knew well, but today it felt as though he were seeing it for the first time.
Your love for literature was evident in the way your fingers traced the words, as if each sentence held the key to an understanding you were yet to uncover. The intensity of your focus, the gentle way you turned each page, made Jason feel like an intruder in this sacred space.
It wasnβt long before his curiosity tugged him closer. He couldnβt help but wonder about the person who could lose themselves in the way you did, as if books were your quiet refuge. His steps were almost silent, the sound of his shoes softened by the carpet, until he was standing near your table, watching you read.
βPardon me,β Jason said, his voice low but carrying a warmth that matched the gentle aura around you. βWhat are you reading?β
You glanced up, startled at first, but the soft smile that followed made Jason feel at ease. Your eyes sparkled with excitement, a reflection of the passion you held for the stories you devoured.