The library had always been Sara's refuge. Rows of books muffled the noise of gossip and laughter, and the scent of paper made her feel safe, hidden.
That afternoon, after Lina left for her club activities, Sara slipped into her usual corner. She pulled out a novel but found herself staring blankly at the words.
The whispers from earlier still stung. Even though Lina had defended her, the memory of Emily's smirk and Hannah's laughter clung like thorns.
She sighed and closed the book.
"You shouldn't let them get to you."
Sara startled. Across the table, Daniel Li had appeared without her noticing. His uniform was neat as always, his posture relaxed, but his eyes held quiet intensity.
"You… heard that?" she asked softly.
He gave a small nod. "Everyone did."
Sara flushed, embarrassment prickling her skin. "It's humiliating. They were my friends."
Daniel studied her for a moment before replying. "Then maybe you need better ones."
The bluntness caught her off guard. For a heartbeat, she wanted to defend Emily and Hannah, to cling to the belief that they cared. But the truth was already clear.
She dropped her gaze. "Maybe you're right."
Silence stretched between them. It wasn't awkward, though — more like a quiet understanding.
Daniel turned a page in the book he carried. "Most people here follow power or money. Loyalty is rare. If you find someone who gives it freely… don't take it lightly."
Sara thought of Lina, the way she had stood up against Emily without hesitation. Warmth bloomed in her chest.
"You sound like you've thought about this a lot," she said.
He gave the faintest smile. "Observation is easier than speaking."
Sara tilted her head. "So… you watch people?"
His eyes flicked to hers, then back to his book. "Only the ones worth watching."
Her heart skipped. Was that his way of saying—?
Before she could respond, the librarian shushed them from across the room. Sara bit back a laugh, covering her mouth. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt… lighter.
As the final bell rang, Sara gathered her things. At the doorway, she hesitated and glanced back. Daniel was still there, calmly reading, as if the world couldn't touch him.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He looked up, meeting her gaze. "For what?"
"For… reminding me that not everyone here is cruel."
His expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "You don't need to thank me for that."
Sara walked away, her steps slower, steadier. The loneliness that had weighed her down for so long wasn't gone — but it wasn't crushing her anymore, either.
Somewhere between Lina's bold laughter and Daniel's quiet words, she had found a fragile thread of hope to hold onto.
And she wasn't ready to let it go.