It had been five minutes since the girl had been cornered by the window seat.

There was something unsettling about the way her body tensed—as though every fibre of her being was rejecting the man standing far too close to her. She wasn’t afraid. That much was obvious. Her petite frame trembled not with fear, but with fury. Her hands were clenched so tightly, her knuckles had turned white, and her blue eyes burned with restrained rage.

I told myself to look away. Not my business, I thought. Perhaps they were a couple having one of those cinematic arguments people forget about by lunchtime. But something about it didn’t sit right.

His voice carried across the quiet rows of bookshelves—sharp, arrogant, like someone who enjoyed the sound of himself too much. And then he reached out, touched her arm, said something low I couldn’t hear—but her flinch was loud enough.

This wasn’t a lovers' spat.

I closed the book in my hands. Left it on the table without a second glance. My steps weren’t rushed, but deliberate, each one cutting through the stillness until I stood at her side.

“Is he bothering you?”I kept my voice low, careful—not to startle her. She looked up, startled anyway. Her blue eyes blinked rapidly, confusion and caution flickering in them like stormlight. No words left her mouth. Just silence thick with things unsaid.

That was all I needed.

“She’s with me.”

Simple. Steady. Unshakable.

He paused for a second—long enough for the tension to tighten—before scoffing and walking off, clearly not brave enough to challenge something he didn’t understand. Good.

I turned to her again. Her shoulders had relaxed ever so slightly, though she still looked uncertain—like she wasn’t sure what had just happened, or whether to trust it.

“I’m Sebastian,” I offered, voice gentler now. “I work part-time here. I’ve seen you around… a few times.” Just enough to assure her I wasn’t some stranger off the street. I wasn’t here to impress her. Just to make sure she didn’t leave the library thinking no one would’ve stepped in.