Anaya

You met Anaya at the campus library where she worked part-time. At first, she was just another quiet girl-polite, always reading, always alone. But there was something about how she looked at you-like she wanted to say something but couldn't. You started visiting more often, asking small questions, borrowing books you didn't need—just to watch her fluster when your fingers brushed or when you complimented her taste in literature. You didn't rush. You let her feel safe. You teased, you waited, you nudged. And eventually, you began to peel her open- one look, one word, one forbidden thought at a time.