Bound By Shadows

Chapter 1 - The Library Encounter

JAY'S POV

The city library has always been my escape.
It smells like paper and dust, the way memories must smell if you could bottle them. People whisper here, like they’re afraid to disturb the past — and for me, that’s perfect. I like quiet. I like safe.

I had my usual table by the tall window, sunlight spilling across my notes. My coffee was cooling untouched because I’d been staring at the same line of text for the past ten minutes. My thesis deadline was approaching, but lately my mind had been a sieve — the more I tried to focus, the more thoughts slipped through.

Footsteps broke the hum of silence. Not the hurried kind of a student late to class. These were slow… measured. Each step seemed deliberate, almost like whoever it was owned the floor they were walking on.

I glanced up.

That’s when I saw him.
Tall. Dark suit tailored within an inch of perfection. Hair a little messy, like the wind had played with it but didn’t dare ruin it completely. And those eyes — sharp, cool, scanning the room until they found me.

I don’t know why my heart gave a single, startled kick. Maybe it was the way his gaze didn’t soften when it landed on me. It was… steady. Knowing. Like he had already decided something about me before we’d even spoken.

I looked back down, pretending to be absorbed in my notes.

The chair across from me scraped softly against the floor. I froze. Slowly, I looked up — and he was lowering himself into the seat without so much as a “Do you mind?”

“You’re in my spot,” he said.
His voice was smooth, low — the kind of voice that could make a warning sound like an invitation.

“I—what?” My brow furrowed.
“I sit here every Tuesday.” He leaned back slightly, eyes never leaving mine. “But you’re here today.”

I glanced around the mostly empty library. “There are… literally twenty other tables.”

A corner of his mouth tilted up — not a smile, exactly. More like amusement barely restrained. “I’m aware.”

I didn’t know whether to roll my eyes or get up and move, but something in me refused to give him the satisfaction. “Well, I guess we’re sharing then.”

He studied me for a long, unsettling moment before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“So I know what to call you when I ask you to move next week.”

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. “Jay.”

He repeated it, slow and deliberate, as if tasting it. “Jay.”

I didn’t know it then, but that was the first time Keifer Watson said my name — and for some reason, it felt like the sound of a door unlocking somewhere I didn’t even know existed.

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