The rain had always loved the university.
Every time it rained, the color of the stone walls seemed to deepen, as if they carried centuries of secrets in every droplet that slid down the surface. The windows of the library fogged up with the chill, making the world outside blur into gray shadows and shimmering puddles.
Inside, it was silent. Only the rustle of pages and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards broke the silence. Students had already gone home, leaving the vast halls nearly empty, except for the faint hum of the storm outside.
And hidden, somewhere in the heart of the library, a drawer remained locked.
It wasn't just any drawer. Tucked at the bottom of the special collections section, it was almost unnoticed by anyone who went there. Rust had claimed its handle, and its key had been lost decades ago, but they say that there's one person who had the spare key to open it. The only problem is no one knows who that person is.
Pressed between yellowing and worn papers with a fading ink is a diary.
Its cover, leather-bound and clearly showing the passage of time. The initials J.N. were faintly carved into the surface, almost completely erased due to its age. And yet, no matter how old it was, the diary seemed...alive. As if the words inside carried a heartbeat of its own.
One strong gust of wind pushed against the old window, rattling its frame. The storm outside intensified. And for just a second, the silence broke... thud.
The drawer shifted slightly, as though the rain itself was calling the diary to be remembered.
Written by a young man namedJulian Navarro, a medic caught in the shadows of the war.
His handwriting danced across the pages, sometimes neat and calm, other times seemingly rushed, almost illegible. But within those uneven strokes lay confessions he could never say out loud. The kind of words that, if read by the wrong person, could destroy him even more.
"The rain fell again today. But in his eyes, I found warmth. Why must the world punish us for a love that feels more real than the war itself?"
Julian's diary was not just a record of history. It was a testament of courage, of longing, and of a forbidden love amidst the raging war.
And it was waiting.
Waiting for someone brave enough to open it. Waiting for someone who's genuinely interested to read the story.
Lightning split across the sky. A white flash illuminated the quiet rows of books, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for the hidden drawer. For a moment, it was as if a faint voice was whispering in someone's ear... a whisper of something.
It was not a whisper of students gossiping about something nonsense. It was way deeper yet so soft, old but with a sigh of memory itself.
"Don't forget me."
The plea of a person who had loved deeply. But no one was there to hear it...
or
not yet?
Somewhere across the campus, in one of the rooms in the boy's dormitory, a young man named Eliot Navarro was staring at a key he received from his late grandfather as a birthday gift. Rain tapped against his window, steady and relentless. He ran a hand through his dark hair, sharp features hardened by thoughts he never voiced.
He didn't know it yet. But his life was about to be tied, by blood, by fate, by love... to a story that began long before he was born.
And in the days to come, he would walk into the library on a rainy afternoon, looking for silence...only to open a drawer that hides a diary of someone's dark past...waiting for his presence to uncover the secret behind it.
The storm raged on. The campus drowned in silver sheets of water, lamplights flickering in the distance.
And in the almost forgotten drawer, the diary trembled ever so slightly. As if it has a mind on its own, so eager to be found.
To whisper its truth once more.