Every afternoon, she came to the library like a habit she never wanted to break. Hair loosely tied, eyes already moving towards the shelves even before she fully entered. She was a proper bookworm, always lost in pages, always carrying a little silence with her.
The librarian noticed everything.
The way she smiled while reading.
The way she returned books as if they meant more than just stories.
The way she spoke less but felt more.
He never asked her name.
Never suggested a book.
He only watched her exchange one book for another, day after day. For him, time passed in the number of books she finished. His love stayed unspoken, safe behind the counter, where words felt risky.
To him, it was a one sided love, quiet and unseen.
Until one evening, inside the last book she returned, he found a small note.
“I always chose my books carefully, but I stayed longer because of you.”
