Library Rules

Chapter 2: Library Rules

The college library was unusually quiet that evening. Rows of shelves seemed to stretch on forever, filled with the scent of old paper. Sia stood at the entrance, clutching her sketchbook and already regretting her decision to come.

Why am I so nervous? It’s just a project. Not an interview with the Prime Minister.

She spotted Aarav sitting by the window — sleeves rolled up, headphones in, surrounded by books. Of course he is. He looked like he belonged there.

Sia cleared her throat. “Hey… partner.”

He didn’t look up. “You’re five minutes late.”

She blinked in surprise. “It’s literally 4:05.”

He turned a page in his notes. “Exactly.”

Her jaw dropped. “Do you time people with a stopwatch, or is that just your hobby?”

Finally, he glanced at her — those hazel eyes steady and unreadable. “I value discipline. It’s the key difference between success and mediocrity.”

Sia slumped into the chair across from him. “And I value coffee and sleep. Guess we’re from different worlds.”

Something resembling a smile tugged at the corners of his lips but vanished almost immediately.

They worked in silence for a while, only the sounds of turning pages and the soft hum of the air conditioner filling the space. Sia scribbled notes, trying not to stare at how intensely focused he appeared.

Then she noticed something odd — a small bandage on his wrist.

Without thinking, she asked softly, “Did you hurt yourself?”

Aarav’s pen paused midair. For a moment, his calm demeanor cracked — like glass glinting in sunlight.

Then, just as quickly, he replied, “It’s nothing. Let’s stay on topic.”

Sia wanted to inquire further, but his tone left little room for discussion.

So she nodded and returned to writing, though her thoughts were now elsewhere.

After an hour, she stretched her arms. “Okay, Mr. Perfectionist, I think we made some progress.”

Aarav neatly gathered the papers. “Barely. But it’ll suffice for today.”

“Wow,” she said sarcastically. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

He stood up to leave but paused for a moment. “You’re not as careless as you appear.”

She blinked in surprise. “That’s… a compliment?”

A faint smirk appeared on his face. “Maybe.”

And then he was gone — just like that, walking away with quiet confidence and no goodbyes.

SIA stared after him, heart racing with confusion. Who even talks like that?

"When she glanced down, she noticed that he had inadvertently left one of his notebooks behind. Taped to the corner of the page was a faded photo — a younger Aarav smiling alongside a woman who resembled his mother. Both of them looked genuinely happy.

For the first time, SIA found herself wondering what had caused him to become so distant.

"It wasn’t," he replied smoothly, but a subtle smirk played at the corners of his lips.

An hour passed. Gradually, they fell into a rhythm — his calm precision balancing her playful chaos. They discussed their project, debated various topics, and occasionally shared brief, awkward silences that felt heavier than words.

Sia leaned back, twirling her pen. "So, Aarav, what do you do for fun?"

He didn’t even look up. "Study."

She snorted. "I said fun, not torture."

His lips twitched. "Fun is relative."

"Do you ever laugh?" she teased. "Like, actually laugh? Or do you schedule that between study sessions too?"

He paused, his eyes locking onto hers. "Not everyone has a reason to laugh, Sia."

The atmosphere shifted. His tone wasn’t sharp; it was quiet and almost fragile. For a moment, Sia found herself at a loss for words. That’s when she noticed it — a faint bandage around his wrist.

Her voice softened. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Aarav froze. In that heartbeat, something in his calm demeanor cracked — a shadow crossed his eyes, and a flicker of pain quickly vanished.

"It’s nothing," he replied tersely. "Let’s stay on topic."

She wanted to ask more but sensed that the subject was closed given his tone. So she nodded and returned to her writing, though her thoughts kept circling back to that moment.

After another hour, Sia finally leaned back and groaned. "Okay, Mr. Perfectionist, I think we made some serious progress."

Aarav packed his notes meticulously, aligning every page perfectly. "Barely. But acceptable."

"Wow," she said with a grin. "I’ll frame that compliment."

He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. "You’re not as careless as you seem."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wait—was that an actual compliment this time?"

A tiny smirk tugged at his lips. "Maybe."

Before she could respond, he walked away — calm, collected, annoyingly perfect.

Sia stared after him, her heart racing more than she'd like to admit. "What’s his deal?" she whispered to herself.

As she began packing her things, she noticed a small black notebook left on the table. Curiosity got the better of her; she flipped it open and froze.

Inside was a photograph with slightly worn edges — a young Aarav beaming beside a woman who looked just like him. His mother, perhaps.

They looked… happy — so different from the boy she'd just spent the last two hours with.

Sai closed the notebook softly, a wave of guilt sweeping over her. “Who are you, Aarav Malhotra?” she murmured. “And what happened to that smile?”

End of Chapter 2

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