The library has always been my safe place—quiet, predictable, and just removed enough from the chaos outside to let me pretend, if only for a little while, that everything in my life is manageable. I picked my usual corner spot by the windows, where the late afternoon sun spilled across the table in slanted streaks. My notebook sat open in front of me, blank except for a few uninspired doodles in the margin. Across from me, Gabriel sketched in his sketchpad, his pencil moving in smooth, deliberate strokes. He didn’t talk much when he worked, which suited me just fine today.
The fight with Rhys was still sitting heavy in my chest, like a rock I couldn’t dislodge no matter how many times I turned it over in my mind. It’d been days since we last spoke. Well, technically, it’d been days since
