CHAPTER 4: Between the pages

After class, their teacher smiled warmly, her glasses catching the afternoon light.

“That was heartfelt,” she said. “Well done.”

Fleur felt lighter than she ever had — as if the air itself had turned softer, easier to breathe. The applause still echoed faintly in her chest, but what stayed with her most was not the sound.

It was the way lior had looked at her.

Not surprised.

Not proud in an overwhelming way.

Just steady. Certain.

Later, the library welcomed them like an old friend. The golden hour stretched lazily across the wooden floors, sunlight spilling in ribbons through the tall windows. The quiet hum of turning pages and distant footsteps filled the air — gentle, comforting.

Fleur reached into her bag, her fingers brushing against the small gift she had prepared the night before.

A bookmark.

Cream-colored, pressed with tiny dried flowers sealed beneath clear laminate. Delicate. Quiet. Like something you might miss if you didn’t look closely.

“For… helping me,” she said shyly, holding it out to him.

lior looked at it for a moment before taking it carefully, as though it were made of glass.

“You helped yourself,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.

Fleur shook her head slightly. “I don’t think I would’ve tried without you.”

For a second, something flickered across his expression — something softer than his usual calm.

He slid the bookmark between the pages of his book.

“Then I’ll keep this,” he said, “as proof that you’re braver than you think.”

They sat across from each other, books open but barely reading.

The library was still quiet.

But somehow, it didn’t feel lonely anymore.

A comfortable silence wrapped around them — not the awkward kind that begs to be filled, but the kind that rests peacefully between two people who don’t need constant words.

Fleur glanced up from her page.

lior was pretending to read.

She could tell because he hadn’t turned a page in five minutes.

“You’re not reading,” she whispered.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You aren’t either.”

She laughed softly, quickly covering her mouth when the sound echoed a little too brightly.

“Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe I’m distracted.”

“By what?” he asked, tilting his head.

She hesitated.

“By… today. It felt different.”

Lior closed his book then, giving her his full attention — something he always did, as if nothing else in the world existed when she spoke.

“It was different,” he agreed. “You didn’t look at the floor once.”

Fleur blinked.

She hadn’t realized that.

“I didn’t?”

“No.” His eyes were warm, reflecting the fading sunlight. “You looked at everyone. You let them see you.”

Her heart gave a small, startled flutter.

It wasn’t just about speaking clearly.

It was about being seen.

The thought both terrified and thrilled her.

A breeze slipped through the slightly open window, stirring the edges of loose paper on the table. fleur reached out instinctively to steady her notes — and her fingers brushed against Lior’s.

It was accidental.

Brief.

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