Library Hearts

It started with a missing chair. Nesma entered the library like she always did at 3:45 — after her club meeting, before her mom picked her up. The golden hour sunlight hit the big back table just right. Her table. Except today, someone was already there. A boy. Hoodie half-up, sketchbook open, pencil flying. She stopped mid-step. Should I go to another table? Nah. That seat was hers. She walked over and stood beside the chair. He looked up, a little startled. Leonardo had soft brown eyes, like coffee at sunset.

He slid his stuff aside without saying anything and gestured for her to sit. “Thanks,” she mumbled. They didn’t talk again. Just worked in silence — him sketching dragons and city skylines, her typing out an essay on The Great Gatsby. But somehow… it wasn’t awkward. It felt like the beginning of something.

After that day, it kept happening. Same time. Same table. Same almost-silence. Sometimes they exchanged small nods. Other times, nothing at all. But the vibe was familiar. Comforting. One day, Nesma noticed him glancing over at her book. “You like fantasy?” he asked softly, surprising her. She blinked. “Yeah. It’s kinda my thing.” “Nice. I draw stuff based on it sometimes.” He flipped his sketchbook around — and showed her a page of a girl with wind in her hair riding a phoenix made of ink and stars. Nesma was shook. “This is beautiful.” Leonardo shrugged, but he smiled a little. “You inspired it.”