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The morning sun was too bright. It felt like an intruder as I walked toward the library, my boots clicking on the pavement with a rhythm that felt far too loud. I hadn't slept well. Every time I closed my eyes, I smelled cedar and her perfume; every time I drifted off, I felt the ghost of her hands on my shoulders.

I pushed open the heavy oak doors at exactly 7:55 AM. The library was silent, the air still carrying that familiar scent of old paper, but today, it felt charged, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

She was already there.

Sia was standing behind the circulation desk, perfectly composed in a high-necked cream blouse and a dark pencil skirt. Her hair was pulled back into its signature tight bun, not a single strand out of place. She was typing something into the computer, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. To anyone else, she looked like the same untouchable Senior Librarian.

Then, she looked up.

Our eyes met, and the "professional" mask didn't just slip—it shattered. A deep, undeniable flush crept up from the collar of her blouse, staining her cheeks a dusty rose. I felt the heat rise in my own face, my heart hammering against my ribs like I'd just finished a heavy set of squats.

"Good morning," I said, my voice sounding deeper, scratchier than usual.

"Good morning, Aryan," she replied. She cleared her throat and looked back at the screen, but her fingers hovered over the keys without typing. "You're... early."

"Couldn't sleep," I admitted, walking toward the desk. I stopped just a few feet away, the space between us feeling like a live wire.

We stayed like that for a moment—the silence of the library stretching out, heavy with the memory of the mahogany table and the emergency lights. I noticed the way her hand trembled slightly as she reached for a stack of return slips. The "authority figure" was gone; there was just a girl who had shared her most private self with me in the dark.

"About last night..." I started, stepping closer until I could see the golden flecks in her eyes.

"Aryan, not here," she whispered, her eyes darting toward the entrance. "The staff will be here in fifteen minutes. We have to be... we have to be professional."

"I know," I said, leaning my elbows on the counter, lowering my voice so it was a vibration only she could feel. "But I can't look at this desk without seeing you on it. I can't look at you without wanting to pull you back into the stacks. It's driving me crazy, Sia."

She let out a shaky breath, finally dropping the act. She leaned forward, mirroring my posture, her face inches from mine. "You think I'm okay? I've spent the last three hours cataloging the same five books because I can't focus. I kept thinking about what you'd say when you walked in. If you'd regret it."

"Regret it?" I reached out, my hand covering hers on the cold marble. My thumb traced the pulse point on her wrist—it was racing. "Sia, I've been a 'nerd' my whole life. I've read a thousand stories about love and desire, but none of them felt like that. I don't just want a 'secret' in the basement. I want... I want you."

The tension in her shoulders finally broke. She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she turned it over, interlacing her fingers with mine.

"I'm older than you," she murmured, a small, vulnerable smile playing on her lips. "I'm your boss. This is supposed to be a disaster, Aryan. My brain is telling me to give you a lecture on workplace boundaries."

"And what is your heart telling you?"

She looked at our joined hands, then up at me, her eyes softening into something I hadn't seen before—true, unfiltered affection.

"It's telling me that I don't care about the rules," she whispered. "It's telling me that I've been waiting for someone to look past the glasses and the books and actually see me. And you did. You saw all of me."

"I love you, Sia," the words felt natural, grounded. It wasn't just about the heat of the night before; it was the way she challenged me, the way she took care of this place, the way she looked right now, blushing under the morning sun.

She squeezed my hand tight. "I think I've loved you since the day you walked in here and corrected me on the philosophy section. Even if I was too stubborn to admit it."

The front door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed in the lobby. We pulled our hands apart instantly, Sia adjusting her glasses and me straightening my shirt.

"Mr. Aryan," she said, her voice regaining its professional edge as another librarian walked into view. "The history section needs re-shelving. Start with the 900s."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, giving her a quick, private wink that made her blush all over again.

As I walked toward the back stacks, I knew the "secret" was still there, but it had changed. It wasn't just a hidden moment in the dark anymore; it was the start of something real. And as I passed the mahogany table in the restricted section, I ran my hand over the wood, smiling.

The library was still quiet, but for the first time, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.

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Note: Valentine's Redemption is still in the works. I have a test this weekend, so look for that update next week!

Small Fun Fact: Out of all my drafts, Aryan and Sia are my favorites.♥️ I'm honestly struggling with the idea of ending their story so soon... 😭😭