CHAPTER 6- LIBRARY

Sunday passed quietly, but the dread of Monday morning loomed heavy. What could possibly go wrong if I went to school? I reluctantly got dressed and made my way to class.

As I walked down the hallway, MJ approached, falling into step beside me. We walked in silence for a moment before the chatter of classmates filled the space around us. Everything seemed normal—at least, on the surface. We attended the lecture, listened, and took notes like usual.

But when the professor finished and began to pack up, every eye in the room seemed to shift toward me. I felt it immediately—the weight of the stares, the sudden shift in attention. I shivered, anxiety creeping up my spine. It was all too familiar—being the center of attention again. I could feel my chest tightening, breathing growing shallow. Panic started to set in.

Before I could stop myself, I bolted from my seat. I ran, heart pounding, desperate to get away. As I rushed out of the room, I dashed past a familiar figure, too quick to catch a glimpse. But then I heard it—the unmistakable sound of my name being called.

"Sarah! Where are you going? What's going on? Where are you running to?"

It was Isaac's voice—loud, clear, and concerned. I didn't stop. I couldn't afford to meet eyes with the person behind that voice. I kept running, my legs carrying me farther away, hoping to distance myself from whoever it was.

As I neared my quiet spot, I finally paused, breathless and shaking. And then I saw her—MJ . She was running after me, barely able to keep up, panting heavily. Stunned, I watched as she finally caught up, bending over to catch her breath.

"I never knew you could run faster than a skinny person," she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood but it didn't work. Her face filled with concern,"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice sharp with irritation. "Why are you running after me?"

"I don't know," she gasped, blinking through heavy breaths. "You tell me. Why did you take off like that?"

I felt the panic rising again, but I couldn't tell her the real reason—the fear of being the center of attention, the suffocating anxiety. I needed to keep it together. Instead, I simply mumbled, "I wasn't feeling well, I just wanted to get out of there."

She looked at me, suspicion flickering across her face. She didn't fully believe me, but she didn't press. Instead, we talked—laughing about random, silly things—anything to take my mind off the storm inside me.

When the laughter finally settled, she asked softly, "Are you calm now? Do you want to go back in?"

I nodded, my mind racing. For a fleeting moment, I wished this moment wouldn't end—this rare time of peace. But as we continued to laugh and joke, my gaze wandered.

And then I saw someone.

It wasn't clear at first—I wasn't wearing my glasses or contacts—but I swear I saw a figure turning away from us. Broad shoulders, a stance too familiar. It was almost identical to someone I knew. Almost.

But as I blinked, the person disappeared into the crowd, walking further away, leaving just enough doubt to make my heart skip. Was it…?

As we made our way back to class, staying through the entire session. When the last lecture ended, MJ and I walked toward the door. She suddenly stopped and turned to me, her expression shifting.

"I'm meeting up with some friends," she said, a bit apologetically. "I need to leave you here to go to your hostel on your own."

I didn't mind—she'd still be coming to my place later to spend the night before heading back to her house off-campus. "No problem," I told her, forcing a smile. "You'll meet me at my hostel later."

We parted ways, heading down different paths—just a few minutes apart. But then I saw him.

Isaac.

He was standing there, blocking my way, stopping me from moving toward the road that would lead straight to my hostel. My stomach sank. I couldn't let him see me—not now, not today. So I turned sharply and ran into the nearest building—the library.

I moved quickly, weaving through rows of bookshelves until I reached the far end, finding a quiet spot at a table tucked away in the shadows. It was the kind of place few ventured to, where the lighting was dim and the solitude almost guaranteed. I pulled a random book from the shelf, pretending to be engrossed in its pages.

I waited, hoping he'd move on after a few minutes, letting me slip away unnoticed. But I didn't dare look up. I kept my eyes fixed on the book, reading intently, trying to block everything out—trying to will him away.

Then, suddenly, I heard a sound.

A chair scraping against the floor directly across from me. My stomach twisted. Slowly, I raised my gaze.

It was him.

Isaac.

He had found me—at the farthest point of the library, where hardly anyone came. A place I chose because I thought no one would bother me. And now, here he was, standing there, inches away.

I knew this space too well. Only I knew this spot—where the lighting was bad, where people rarely wandered. I'd spent so many afternoons here, trying to escape everything, to get lost in my books. But now? With him here?

I'd rather read outside, anywhere, than sit here, trapped in this confined space with him. Because this could go one of two ways:

One—if someone saw Isaac, they might easily follow him, find him in this dim, secluded spot. And the rumors would fly, of course. A big girl like me, sitting alone in the library with a guy late in the evening—it wouldn't look good.

Or two—people would see the two of us together, and immediately assume I was once again trying to make myself feel thinner, prettier, less invisible, by attaching myself to someone like him. It would be exactly what they'd think—that I was here, playing games with another hot guy just to feel like I mattered.

Either way, I couldn't let either scenario happen.

So I glanced at the book in my hand once more, feigned interest, but my heart was racing. I could feel his gaze on me, burning through the thin veil I'd tried to build between us.

I swallowed hard, then pushed the book aside, gathering my things. I had to get out of here—fast.

As I stood up to leave, Isaac didn't say a word. He simply crossed his legs, his expression calm but firm. Then, in a low voice, he spoke—just loud enough for me to hear.

"Move an inch, and I'm going to make sure the whole library knows we're the only two people here."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My heart dropped—literally, I felt it sink from my chest to my stomach. Fear clawed at me, knotting in my chest. I could see it playing out in my mind—the moment someone walked in, their eyes catching us alone. Whatever Isaac said would be taken as truth. Nobody would believe me over him.

So I sat back down, quietly—unwillingly, hesitantly. The tension in the air pressed down on me, suffocating.

I tried to pretend I didn't care, turning my attention back to the book I'd picked up. But I wasn't reading. I couldn't focus. My mind was too occupied with everything swirling around me—my pulse pounding, my stomach twisting in knots.

He sat there, watching me. Silent at first, just observing, as though he expected me to snap back at him or fire off some sharp response. But I didn't. I kept my head down, pretending to read, hoping he'd get bored and leave me alone.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice cutting through the silence. "You're not saying anything."

I ignored him. I didn't even lift my eyes. I just kept reading—though nothing I was reading was actually entering my head. My fingers fumbled over the pages, but I couldn't focus.

He waited. Staring at me, expectant.

Still, I said nothing.

And when he finally spoke again, his tone was sharper, more annoyed. "You're really just gonna sit there, like I'm not even here?"

I didn't answer. I kept my gaze fixed on the book, hoping the words on the page would blur into something else, anything to avoid his presence.

But I wasn't fooling anyone—not even myself.

I wasn't even enjoying the novel I was pretending to read. The words blurred together on the page, and no matter how hard I tried to focus, I couldn't shake the weight pressing down on me. So I kept my gaze fixed, refusing to look up—just staring at the pages, hoping it would make him disappear.

He noticed.

"It's been five minutes," he said, his voice breaking the silence. "You haven't flipped a page."

I felt my patience snap. Annoyance bubbled to the surface, and I finally glanced at him, glaring daggers. "What do you want?" I spat.

His expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I want to know why you hate me so much."

I shook my head, exasperated. "I don't hate you."

He leaned in slightly, his tone growing more insistent. "In this whole school, you're the only person who's made it clear you want nothing to do with me—like you want me as far away from you as possible. I haven't even met you before, and even if I did, I don't think I left a bad impression. So please... tell me. Why do you hate me so much?"

Again, I repeated, quieter this time, "I do not hate you."

But he wasn't convinced. "Then why do you want me to stay away from you?"

"Because I don't want you near me," I said, my voice steady but firm.

He frowned, leaning in further. "Why?"

I said nothing.

He waited, his frustration rising. "You have to reply to me."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You don't need to know. If this is what you want to talk about, I have nothing else to say to you."

"I don't hate you. I'm not avoiding you. I just want you to stay away from me," I repeated.

He blinked, clearly confused. I took a short breathe correcting my previous statement "Yes, I am avoiding you. I want you far away from me as possible. I don't need to hate you to know that."

He furrowed his brows. "Why would you suddenly see someone and decide you want nothing to do with them?"

"It's a gut feeling," I told him, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

He didn't back down. "Please—just stay away from me." I said a pleading tone

"No," he said again, shaking his head stubbornly.

Frustration bubbled over, tears barely hanging in my eyes. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold it back. "Why? What do you want?"

His expression shifted, something in his eyes softening as if he could feel me holding back. "Do I really upset you that much?"

I stared at him, my breathing hitching. "No, I'm not upset."

But his gaze sharpened, and he saw it—saw right through my facade. "You're about to cry."

"I'm not about to cry. I'm not upset." I forced the words out, shaking my head. "I just want you to stay away from me. Can't you do that? There are hundreds of people in this school who want to spend every weekend with you. One person staying away from you won't make a difference. Please—stay away from me."

As I spoke, I slowly stood up, grabbing my novel and my bag. I turned to him, my voice calm but firm. "No hard feelings. No hate. Whatever it is that you think, you are wrong... I just really need to keep my distance from you."

I walked past him, carrying my things. I returned the book to the shelf in the library and then made my way back to my hostel.

As I reached my room, a deep sense of exhaustion settled over me. I fell onto my bed, the weight of it all pulling me down pulled up my phone and texted MJ not to bother coming over. I shut my eyes, hoping that if I ignored it long enough, everything from that fateful Monday morning would fade away—just a distant memory that I could forget.