The library was quiet.
Not empty just disciplined. Pages turning, pens moving, the soft ticking of the wall clock.
Lucas sat at the long table with Asha, books open between them. He leaned slightly forward, explaining a problem in a low voice.
"If you change the order here, the answer becomes obvious," he said.
Asha followed along, nodding. "Ah… yeah. I see it now."
She smiled not at him, but at the page. Satisfied.
That was when a voice cut in.
"Lucas."
Both of them looked up.
She stood there.
Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. Jaw tense.
"Asha," she said without looking at her, "can you give us a minute?"
Before Asha could even respond, Lucas spoke.
"No."
The single word landed quietly but firmly.
Asha blinked, surprised.
"It's fine," Lucas added, calm. "You don't need to move."
That alone shifted the balance.
She stiffened. "I need to talk to you."
Lucas met her eyes. His expression didn't change.
"About what?"
"You know what," she said. "Why are you ignoring me?"
Lucas didn't answer immediately.
Then he asked, evenly
"Why does it matter to you?"
The question caught her off guard.
"What?"
"You're asking like I owe you attention," he continued. "I don't."
Her lips parted. "I just, we used to—"
"Used to," Lucas repeated quietly. "Exactly."
She clenched her fists. "Do you not have feelings for me anymore?"
This time, Lucas answered immediately.
"No."
No hesitation.
No softness.
The word was clean.
Final.
Her face paled slightly.
"I was wrong," she said quickly. "I judged you. I said things I shouldn't have. If I give you a chance—"
Lucas's eyes hardened—not with anger, but clarity.
"You don't give me chances," he said.
"And I don't accept pity disguised as regret."
That hurt.
She felt it.
"I liked you," Lucas continued, voice steady, "when I didn't respect myself. When I thought being humiliated was something I had to endure."
Asha sat quietly, eyes lowered, pretending to read—but listening.
"That version of me is gone," Lucas said. "And I'm not interested in going back just because you're uncomfortable with that."
Silence stretched between them.
She looked past him at Asha.
At how naturally she sat there.
How she wasn't demanding anything.
How Lucas hadn't once told her to leave.
Her throat tightened.
"So… that's it?" she asked.
"Yes."
One word.
Enough.
Lucas turned back to the table.
"Asha," he said calmly, "sorry for the interruption. Where were we?"
Asha looked at him for a second then nodded.
"We were on the second example."
Lucas picked up his pen and continued, as if nothing had happened.
Because for him
It hadn't.
She stood there for another moment, unseen, unacknowledged.
Then she turned and walked away.
Not defeated by anger.
But by certainty.
She finally understood something she hadn't before:
He didn't leave her.
He outgrew her.