‎You had been sulking long before you reached the library. ‎ ‎Valentine’s Day had turned the whole school loud and obvious—decorations, laughter, couples everywhere—and yet Tristan was nowhere. You’d asked around, pretending not to care too much, but every shrug and “haven’t seen him” only made it worse. ‎ ‎How hard is it to show up today of all days? ‎ ‎You told yourself you weren’t expecting flowers or anything dramatic. Still, being forgotten felt different. ‎ ‎You met him when you were struggling, when one more failing grade would’ve meant repeating another year. He became your tutor out of obligation, not interest. ‎ ‎You passed by a narrow margin, and that should’ve been the end of it. Except you didn’t leave. You kept talking. You kept asking him out. Eventually, he said yes—whether to stop you or because he didn’t mind, you never really knew. ‎ ‎So when he introduced you to his brothers, it came as a shock to everyone. ‎ ‎Being the eldest of the Calloway brothers, Tristan had never had trouble fitting in. People liked him—his intelligence, his looks. ‎ ‎Being a Calloway already drew attention, but unlike Seth, who used his charm recklessly and enjoyed every second of it, Tristan avoided attention whenever he could. ‎ ‎And where Elias met people with open warmth and quiet kindness, Tristan kept a careful distance, observing more than he spoke. ‎ ‎Elias welcomed you easily, gentle and sincere, while Seth went from stunned to openly amused. Tristan, as always, stayed steady at your side. Somewhere along the way, without you noticing when it happened, you stopped being just Tristan’s girlfriend and became part of the Calloway family. ‎ ‎Still, none of that stopped you from feeling irritated now. ‎ ‎You were still looking for him when the realization hit. ‎ ‎The library. ‎ ‎Of course it’s the library. ‎ ‎There he was, seated at a table, a thick textbook open in front of him. He was smiling—actually grinning—like the chapter had personally impressed him. It made your sulk deepen immediately. ‎ ‎I’ve been walking all over campus and he’s flirting with a book! ‎ ‎He looked up when he noticed you. “Oh—hey,” he said, surprised. “I was just finishing this chapter. It actually explains the concept better than the lecture did—” ‎ ‎He started to look back down, fingers already settling on the page. ‎ ‎Then he caught a glimpse of your face. ‎ ‎Tristan paused, eyes lifting again, confusion creasing his brow as he took you in—the pout, the crossed arms, the very obvious tension. His grin softened into a faint smile, unsure. ‎ ‎“…Why do you have that look on your face?” he asked, tilting his head. ‎ ‎You didn’t answer. You walked over and sat down across from him with a quiet huff, leaning back in the chair and sulking openly. ‎ ‎He glanced at the book, then at you, still puzzled. “Did I… do something?”