(Library — First Semester)
She always sat in the same corner seat, earphones in, highlighter in hand. He noticed her every day but never had the courage to say anything… until one afternoon.
Him: (approaches hesitantly) Umm… is this seat taken?
She: (removing earphones) Oh—no, you can sit.
They studied in silence. But that silence slowly turned into casual greetings.
And soon… into study breaks filled with soft laughter.
---
(Mid-semester)
They’d started sharing playlists, notes, and coffee.
Him: You’re kinda the reason I like coming here now.
She: (blushing) Really? I thought I was the only one feeling that.
Him: (softly) You’re not.
That day, they sat together until the library closed.
No confession. No pressure. Just silent, mutual comfort.
---
(Finals Week)
He didn’t show up. Not for three days. No texts. No explanation.
She kept glancing at the empty seat.
On the fourth day, she finally got a message:
"Hey, I had to fly back home… my mom’s unwell. Sorry I left like that. I didn’t know how to say goodbye."
Her heart sank.
She replied:
"I hope she recovers soon. I’ll reserve your seat. Just in case."
---
(Graduation Day — 4 years later)
She walked into the library for one last time. Her seat was taken.
By someone new.
She smiled.
Pulled out her old playlist.
And whispered,
"Some stories never get an ending. But they still leave a song behind."
