Chapter 3 : The Garden Beyond the World

As the day stretched on, the quiet hum of the library wrapped around us, the scent of aged paper and ink settling in the air like an old lullaby. You wandered through the endless rows of books, your fingers tracing the spines, your eyes drinking in the titles as if searching for something lost between the pages. I watched from a distance, the way you moved, the way the light from the high windows softened against your skin. You belonged here—just as much as you belonged in the garden, just as much as you belonged in the spaces I had never realized were empty until you filled them.

You pulled a book from the shelf, a small, leather-bound thing with a worn spine and delicate gold lettering. The pages rustled softly as you flipped through them, your expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, something unreadable. Then, after a moment, you turned, holding it out to me.

"Read this." Your voice was quiet, but there was a weight to it, a meaning I didn't yet understand.

I took the book from your hands, glancing at the title—The Garden Beyond the World. The words struck something inside me, something distant yet familiar, like a forgotten dream trying to resurface.

"Have you read it before?" I asked.

You shook your head. "No. But I feel like I have."

A quiet settled between us, one of those silences that didn't need to be filled. I turned the pages, the words flowing beneath my fingertips, whispering secrets I wasn't sure I was ready to hear. The story spoke of a hidden place, a garden untouched by time, filled with white and blue roses that only a few could ever find. A place that existed somewhere between reality and memory, waiting to be discovered again.

I looked at you, my heart beating a little faster. "This sounds like—"

"I know." You exhaled, a breath of wonder, of something unspoken. "That's why I picked it."

It was strange, this feeling—like the universe had pulled a thread between us, weaving our world into something that had existed long before we stepped into it. I closed the book carefully, running my thumb over the gold lettering once more before slipping it into my coat pocket.

"Let's go home."

You nodded, as if you had been waiting for me to say it.