The library smelled faintly of old pages and fresh ink, a place of comfort for both Daniel and Ira. He had dropped by without much planning—something he was beginning to do often. Maybe it was the quiet, maybe it was Ira. He wasn't sure yet.
Ira looked up from her desk and beamed when she saw him.
"Back again?" she asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Daniel smiled. "Guess I'm making this my second home."
They exchanged a few lines of small talk—books, how quiet it was today, some banter about a clueless customer who thought Plato was a coding language.
But even in the soft humor, Ira noticed something. Daniel's smile didn't reach his eyes.
She leaned forward on the counter, voice lowered. "How did it go?"
Daniel paused. "It's official now. We signed the papers this morning."
The words were plain. No drama. No tears. Just a statement of fact.
Ira's face softened. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't be. It was coming."
There was a silence. Then Ira, with a sudden burst of boldness, said, "Then we should celebrate."
Daniel blinked. "Celebrate?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "It's a new beginning. You're free. We're getting drinks."
He was about to protest, but her determined look shut him up. So, he laughed. "Fine. One drink."
---
The bar was a quiet little place, low lighting, indie music playing in the background. They sat at a small table tucked in the corner.
Daniel ordered a beer. Ira confidently ordered a cocktail.
A few sips in, and her cheeks were already flushed.
"You okay?" Daniel asked, noticing her blinking a little slower.
"I'm fine," she said, waving her hand vaguely. "Very fine."
She took another sip. Daniel arched an eyebrow. "You're not used to drinking, are you?"
"Pfft," Ira dismissed him, though her words slurred just slightly. "I am… a mysterious woman with many hidden talents."
"You're drunk."
"I am not!" she insisted, and promptly almost missed her mouth with her straw.
Daniel chuckled, gently taking the glass away. "That's enough, mystery woman."
Ira pouted like a child. "You're mean."
He shook his head, amused. "You'll thank me tomorrow."
There was a brief pause. Then Ira, resting her chin on her hand, stared at him dreamily. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Daniel leaned back, curious. "Go on."
She sighed deeply. "I loved you. From university. Not like, liked liked. Loved."
Daniel blinked, straightening. "From university?"
"Yes." Her voice was soft now. "You were kind. Like, genuinely kind. Remember when I messed up my entire thesis project? Everyone told me to give up. You sat with me for two nights and helped me fix it. You didn't even know me that well. But you did it anyway."
"I remember," he said quietly. "It wasn't a big deal."
"It was to me," Ira whispered. "I wanted to tell you. So many times. But you were always busy, then you were with Leah, and I... I didn't want to ruin anything. Now that you're divorced, if I say it, it just feels like I'm swooping in like some villain."
Her eyes welled up with tears. "I'm not taking advantage of you. I swear. I just… couldn't hold it in anymore."
Daniel stared at her, a little stunned. He had always sensed she had feelings for him, but to know it went back years—it touched something in him.
"Ira," he said gently, reaching out to take her hand. "I know you're not. I believe you. And I'm… glad you told me."
Ira's lips trembled, and then she burst into tears.
"But I didn't mean to cry! Why am I crying? I'm not sad!" she wailed.
"You're drunk," Daniel said with a laugh, handing her a napkin. "And apparently, a very emotional drunk."
"I'm not a drunk, I'm just emotionally hydrated," she sniffed.
He shook his head, thoroughly amused and a little charmed. "Come on. Let's get you home."
---
Ira clung to his arm on the walk out, mumbling directions to her house. She nearly tripped twice, once laughing and once crying over how pretty the streetlight looked.
By the time they reached her apartment, Daniel had practically memorized how she looked when she was tipsy—flushed cheeks, watery eyes, pouty lips, and the most innocent questions like "Do clouds have emotions?"
He helped her to the door, and she fumbled with the keys.
"Thank you," she whispered, finally steadying herself. "For tonight. And for believing me."
He smiled softly. "Anytime, Ira."
She gave him a wobbly salute and disappeared inside.
Daniel stood at her door for a moment longer, then turned and walked back into the night. There was something different in the air. A change he hadn't quite named yet.
But he could feel it.