Yehezkiel hated libraries. He hated the smell of old books, the eerie silence, and the oppressive rules about keeping your voice down. But as a history major, he couldn’t avoid them, especially when his professor assigned an obscure research paper.

It was during one of these reluctant visits that Yehezkiel first noticed the man.

He was sitting at the far end of the library, hunched over a stack of books. His auburn hair caught the sunlight streaming through the window, and his glasses slipped down his nose as he scribbled furiously into a notebook. Yehezkiel hadn’t meant to stare, but there was something captivating about him—his focus, the way his lips quirked into a tiny smile when he found something interesting.

Yehezkiel forced himself to look away, pretending to scan the spines of the books in front of him.

"...."