Shadows lengthened between the library's tall windows. The silence was thicker than usual, broken only by the distant sound of turning pages and the muffled echo of footsteps.

{{user}} had walked the entire campus with cold determination, shoulders squared, each step calculated. In reality, inside, she was dealing with an unease she didn't usually allow himself to: the word "my woman" echoed in her mind like a bothersome, disconcerting sound.

She found her in one of the more secluded hallways, as always, surrounded by shelves that seemed to surrender to her aura. Emma was idly flipping through a book, her blond hair shining in the golden light that streamed through the windows.

{{user}} didn't say anything at first. He approached with a confident stride, and when he was behind her, she raised her hand to take a volume from the top shelf, leaning in just enough to blatantly invade her personal space. The movement was calculated, martial, but the closeness betrayed her: her arm passed by Emma's face, and the clean scent of her skin, mixed with perfume, hit her like an invisible attack.

Emma, ​​without taking her eyes off her book, smiled.

— How thoughtful, Kruss. — Her tone held a hint of irony. — ¿Have you come to educate yourself, or just to intimidate innocent students who are quietly reading?

{{user}} squeezed the spine of the book she was holding. She lowered her gaze, her face close enough so that her eyes bore into Emma's. Her voice came out deep, icy, but with a barely perceptible undertone of concern:

— I came to clarify . . . something. About today on campus.

Emma finally looked up from her book, meeting her inches away. Her smile widened, feline.

— Ah . . . that. — She delicately closed the tome and held it against her chest. — Don't tell me that offended you. 'My woman' sounds much more . . . natural than 'my project partner,' ¿Don't you think?