This specific corner on the third floor of the Central Library was Arko's 'Safe Zone.' Even the dust settled upon the books here knew that the boy named Arko Mollick was a literal robot. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes always calculated life like a sheet of graph paper—mapping out where his career lay, where scholarships were hidden, and exactly where time was being wasted.
It was precisely then that a crack appeared in Arko's sacred peace, detonating like an atomic bomb.
With a violent thud, the library door swung open as if someone had kicked it. Then, a pair of rhythmic, jingling footsteps marched directly toward the window at Arko's table. Arko stopped his pen and glanced at his watch. He had deviated from his study routine by exactly seven minutes.
He looked up to witness a strange sight.
A girl stood before him in a white linen kamiz, her large oxidized earrings swaying like swings. In one hand, she held a bunch of blue butterfly pea flowers, and in the other, a massive DSLR camera—which she was pointing almost directly at Arko's nose.
"Shift a little to the left, Mr. Economics! Your gloomy face is blocking the window light," the girl chirped without any introduction.
Arko remained as still as a statue. "Excuse me? Do you realize this is a library?"
"I know! It's a place where people read books to gain knowledge, and I come here to find beautiful frames," the girl—Rini—replied with a wide grin, twisting her lens. "Uff! This scowl on your forehead is coming out great. You look exactly like some grumpy professor from the Victorian era!"
Arko gritted his teeth and said, "Look, your cheap photography and noise are breaking my concentration. Please take your 'flowers and vines' somewhere else."
Rini wasn't discouraged in the least. Instead, she took a step closer and dropped a fresh blue butterfly pea flower onto Arko's open notebook. "Studying such hardcore economics will turn your brain into dry wood. Add some color to your life! This blue flower will at least provide some oxygen to your dull lifestyle."
"I get my oxygen from the air, not from flowers," Arko said coldly, attempting to brush the flower aside.
"You are so joyless!" Rini winked and laughed. "Alright, I'm leaving. But beware, that stony face of yours is now captured in my camera. I'll let you off for today, but don't forget the color blue while you're busy balancing your scholarship accounts!"
Rini almost danced her way out of the library. Arko sighed and thought, 'Has the number of lunatics on campus increased?'
He tried to refocus on his books. But exactly five minutes later, his phone, set to silent, vibrated. A message from an unknown number. As the screen lit up, the hair on his arms stood up.
There was no text in the message. Just a photo. It was the shot of Arko's angry face taken moments ago, but in the background, the blue butterfly pea in the window light looked impossibly beautiful. Below the photo, it read:
"It took me only three minutes to get your number. I'm faster than your scholarship, aren't I? By the way, your anger is quite cute!"
Arko looked out the window. In the campus courtyard, the girl in the white kamiz vanished without looking back, merely waving her hand. Arko felt that for the first time, a crack had formed in the fortress of his well-organized career. And that crack was the color blue.
The Pull of an Invisible Thread
The next morning, Arko couldn't focus at the Central Library. He was flipping through the pages, but every word seemed blurred behind the shadow of yesterday's message. Rini's daring words—"I'm faster than your scholarship... your anger is quite cute!"—echoed repeatedly in his brain.
Arko locked his phone in his drawer. For the past three years, he had lived by a rigid set of rules, and today, Rini's message had caused a massive tremor in those walls.
Leaving the library, Arko walked through the campus corridor toward the department notice board. Passing by the cafeteria, he came to a sudden halt.
Rini was standing amidst a circle of friends, gesturing excitedly as she spoke. She was laughing—the same soul-baring laugh from yesterday. Arko noticed she held another small bunch of blue butterfly peas today.
Suddenly, Rini's laughter stopped. She turned around as if she knew exactly where Arko was standing—looking straight into his eyes. Before Arko could look away, Rini broke away from her friends and ran to stand right in front of him.
"Mr. Economics! What's the matter? Was there a shortage of flowers in the library today?" Rini asked with a tilted smile.
Arko tried to steady himself. "Do I look like I'm in the mood for a conversation? Why did you take that photo? And the number—"
"The number isn't the point," Rini interrupted, her voice suddenly dropping into a lower, deeper tone. "The point is, when a person hides their inner self so carefully, the outside world becomes even more desperate to see it. Do you really believe your career and this wall of silence will save you?"
Arko stood stunned. As Rini brushed past his shoulder, she whispered, "I have a photography exhibition in the auditorium this afternoon. You can come if you want, Mr. Economics."
Rini walked away. Arko remained standing in the middle of the corridor, his hands trembling. Should he go? Or should he find another logical reason to push himself away?
When Arko opened his bag to enter his class, he saw it—a dried blue butterfly pea flower lying inside his notebook. On the cardboard cover, it was written in tiny letters: 'I know you will come.'
Arko couldn't figure out if Rini was just an ordinary girl or a signal destined to wreck his meticulously planned life.
A Past Captured in Frames
The afternoon sky was cloudy. Arko sat at his desk, staring at his watch—only ten minutes left until the exhibition started. He had told himself a hundred times, "There's no need to go. It's just a waste of time." But the blue flower clutched in his palm acted like a strange magnetic force, pulling him forward.
As he pushed open the heavy doors of the auditorium, Arko's breath caught. Blue lights played across the room. Rows of photography frames lined the walls, but every single picture was in black and white—except for subtle touches of blue butterfly pea flowers in certain parts of the images.
Arko walked slowly. Each photo seemed to tell a story. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks.
This wasn't just any photo. It showed a teenager sitting alone in an old park, his eyes as hollow as stone. That teenager was none other than Arko himself—a picture from three years ago, from the time he first became truly alone.
Under the photo, it was written: "Some wounds don't fade with time; they are simply captured in new frames."
With trembling hands, Arko moved closer to the photo. Where did Rini get this? This was a memory that belonged in the pages of a private diary.
Suddenly, Rini's voice drifted from a dark corner of the auditorium. "Looks very familiar, doesn't it, Mr. Economics?"
Arko turned around. Rini stood there, no camera in her hand this time, but a bouquet of blue butterfly peas. Instead of mischief, there was a profound sense of empathy in her eyes.
"Who are you?" Arko's voice held no annoyance now, only an unknown fear. "And where did you get these pictures?"
Rini walked slowly toward him. "Who I am isn't the point. The point is, you are stuck in the past, and I have come to open that door. That picture you see—it's not just a photo of your loneliness; it's the beginning from which you must start writing a new story of living."
Arko realized Rini wasn't just some girl from the campus. Every step she took seemed to follow a script of his life that she had known all along.