The weekend passed in restless stillness.
Elena didn't go to the library. She couldn't.Not because she didn't want to—but because she wanted to too much.
She kept replaying Thursday. The way Adrian's voice dropped, the brush of his fingers, the look in his eyes like he wanted to devour a truth they'd both been hiding behind.
Every page she tried to read was a blur.Every moment felt like a pause that would never end.
On Monday, she gave in.
She wore her softest sweater and told herself she was going for the books—but her heart wasn't fooled.
The library was quiet.
Too quiet.
Adrian wasn't at the front desk. Not in the corner where he usually read. Not even in the back where the dusty art books lived.
She stood in the aisle between the poetry shelves, uncertain, alone, and full of thoughts she couldn't name.
"Looking for me?"
His voice came from behind her—low, warm, laced with something soft.
She turned slowly.
He stood just a few steps away, hands in his coat pockets, hair messily falling into his eyes. But it was the expression on his face that froze her: open, honest, and full of knowing.
"I thought maybe you wouldn't come back," he said.
"I wasn't sure I should."
"Why?"
"Because I almost kissed you. And I wanted it too much."
A silence spread.
Then Adrian took a step closer.
"You think you're the only one who wanted that?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"I think…" Her voice trembled. "I think I'm scared. I've been hurt before."
"So have I," he said. "But maybe we stop hiding behind books and shelves and pretending we're just casual glances and quiet conversations."
She didn't move. Not yet.
But her heart did.
He held out his hand—not to grab her, not to pull her close, but to offer. To ask.
"If I kiss you now, Elena… it won't be like before. It won't be something small. It'll matter."
She looked at his hand.
Then at his eyes.
And slowly—tenderly—she placed her fingers in his.
"Then do it," she whispered. "Before I start overthinking everything."
It wasn't fireworks.It wasn't a movie scene.It wasn't rushed.
It was slow.
Deep.
Deliberate.
His hand cupped her cheek gently, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth like he was memorizing her. Her breath caught just before their lips met, and when they did—finally did—it was like something clicked into place.
There was no space between them, no library, no world. Just them. Just this.
Warmth poured through her. Her fingers gripped his coat. His other hand slid around her waist.
It wasn't just a kiss.
It was everything they'd been waiting for.
Every word unsaid. Every glance. Every almost.
And when they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, breath mingling, everything felt quiet in a different way.
A good way.
A way that meant they weren't waiting anymore.
Later, as they sat together by the window, watching the rain return, Adrian slid a book toward her.
A blank journal.
"What's this?" she asked.
"A new story," he said, smiling. "Ours."
[End of Chapter 5 – and the novel 💕 END]