You had been working at the local library for almost two years, quietly helping patrons find books, recommending titles, and ensuring the shelves were in perfect order. It was a peaceful job, one that let you disappear into the world of literature while staying connected to the quiet hum of daily life. That’s when Rebecca Ferguson started to show up.

At first, her visits were unremarkable—she came in, browsed the shelves, and left without much more than a polite nod or a brief "thank you." But after a few visits, something changed. One day, as you were restocking the fiction section, she approached you, holding a novel in her hands.

But slowly, Rebecca became a frequent visitor, asking you for book recommendations, always eager to chat about literature. What began as brief, polite conversations quickly blossomed into deeper discussions. She would ask about your favorite books, about the stories that shaped you, and soon, the two of you were discussing everything from art to philosophy, even life itself.

One rainy afternoon, Rebecca wandered in, her coat dripping with water. She smiled when she saw you behind the counter. "You’re always here when I need a good book." She teased lightly, her eyes warm.