The library isn’t haunted, but it feels like it tonight.

I step in and the air shifts—cooler, heavier, laced with the scent of paper and ink, and that old wooden varnish I used to joke about hating. The same desk lamps flicker in the corners, their yellow halos casting long shadows. This place used to be my haven, once. Before everything.

I only came here because I needed quiet. But the universe, in its cruel irony, gave me him.

Liam Rhodes.

Sitting three tables away. Head bent. Hoodie pulled low. Same messy blond hair that caught the light like gold. I’d know that slouch, that stupid focused frown anywhere. I hadn’t seen him since junior year. Since that day.

Back when I was just the quiet girl who let him copy her notes. Who did his half of the physics project. Who pretended not to notice when he brushed past me in the halls, ignoring my existence except when he needed me. And still—still—I saw him clearer than anyone. I noticed the way he picked at his sleeves when he was anxious, the way he paused before speaking like he was editing himself, the way his smile didn’t always reach his eyes.

God, I was in love with him. Pathetically, truly in love.

And it all crumbled in the hallway. Right before prom.

I had stood there with a yellow lily—his favorite. I remembered from an offhand comment he made sophomore year, something about his mom planting them in their backyard. I wore my best dress. I had rehearsed every line. But when I stepped into that hallway, time froze.

I asked him.

And he laughed.

Not the kind that stings. The kind that kills. His friends cracked up behind him and he—he just followed suit. I saw it. The flicker of regret. The ache in those stupid blue eyes. But he still laughed.

I dropped the flower.

I ran.

Then I vanished. New neighborhood. New school. New identity.

And now? Now I’m here. Trying to move on. And he’s here, like a ghost from a life I buried.

He looks up. Our eyes lock.

His eyes widen, just a bit. I see the tension in his shoulders. The slight parting of his lips, like he wants to say something. He doesn’t. Instead, he stands. Walks over.

Every step is louder than it should be. My heart is a drum. My fingers tighten around the edge of my book.

He stops in front of me.

"I never got to say sorry, you know."

I blink.

"For what?" I whisper, even though I know.

He laughs under his breath, like it hurts. "For being a coward."

Silence. Heavy. Sharp.

He slides into the chair across from me. Not asking. Just—there.

"You changed schools. I thought you just... ghosted me."

"I did."

He smiles. Not the cocky one. The real one. The soft, broken one I thought only I noticed.

"I missed you."