The soft light of late afternoon streamed through the tall, arched windows of the university library, casting a golden glow on the rows of bookshelves. The quiet hum of silence was comforting, like a gentle embrace that cocooned Daisy as she bent over her work. The scent of aged paper and ink filled the air, and her delicate fingers flipped through the pages of an old manuscript, her mind absorbed in the task at hand.
The soft rustle of pages and the occasional whisper from distant students were the only sounds that reached her ears, and she welcomed them as part of the library's gentle ambiance. She was absorbed in her work, her pen moving smoothly across the page, when something disturbed the air—an unfamiliar tension that pulled her attention away from her notes.
She looked up, her gaze drawn to a figure at the far end of the aisle. A man,He was striking in appearance—tall, with light skin that had a golden undertone, and brunette hair that was slightly disheveled. He was pacing, his movements sharp and restless, as if he were wrestling with some inner turmoil. Daisy's brow furrowed in concern. She didn't recognize him—he wasn't someone she had ever seen before. He was tall, with light skin that seemed to catch the warm glow of the setting sun, and his hair, a shade of brunette. He had been running his hands through it in frustration.He was well-dressed, but his clothes seemed out of place here, more suited for a boardroom than a library.
She tried to focus on her work again, but the tension radiating from him was impossible to ignore. His pacing quickened, and she could hear the quiet muttering of words that she couldn't quite make out. Her hands stilled over her notebook, the pen poised but unmoving.
He didn't belong to the calm, orderly world of the library. His agitation was palpable, a crack in the serene atmosphere that Daisy found unsettling. She watched him for a moment, wondering what could be bothering him so much. His presence felt almost like an intrusion, a storm cloud hovering in a clear sky.
Suddenly, he slammed a book shut with a force that echoed through the silent space. The loud sound echoed through the quiet space, drawing the attention of a nearby librarian. That caused Daisy to flinch. Her heart raced, and she felt a pang of fear in her chest. She didn't know this man, didn't know what could have caused such anger, but the intensity of his emotions sent a shiver down her spine.
The librarian, an older woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, approached the man with a stern expression. Daisy couldn't hear what was said, but she could see the tension in the way the man's shoulders stiffened. His expression, a mix of frustration and something deeper—despair, perhaps—struck a chord in her. Even though she didn't know him, something about his intensity unnerved her.
The librarian's words seemed to have some effect. The man—Ferdinand, she would later learn—nodded curtly, though the frustration in his movements was still evident. He picked up his coat from a nearby chair and walked out of the library without another word, leaving the room in a strained, uncomfortable silence.
Daisy exhaled slowly, realizing she had been holding her breath. Her heart was still racing from the shock of the sudden noise and the unexpected tension that had filled the space. She tried to return to her work, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the man who had just left.
Who was he? And what could have driven him to such a state? She couldn't help but wonder about the cause of his frustration, and why he had chosen the library—her sanctuary—as the place to release it. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Daisy was a gentle soul, sensitive to the emotions of others, and the intensity of the encounter had shaken her.
By the time she returned to her dorm that evening, the sun had set, and the warmth of the library had given way to the coolness of her small room. She changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed, but the day's events lingered in her mind.
As she lay there, staring at the ceiling, she found herself replaying the scene over and over. The look on Ferdinand's face, the way he had stormed out—it was as if a dark cloud had passed through her life, leaving a trail of unease in its wake. She had never seen someone so consumed by their emotions, and it scared her a little. Daisy was used to calm, to softness, and the rawness of what she had witnessed felt like a stark contrast to her own world.
She pulled the blanket up to her chin, seeking comfort in the familiar. But even as she tried to push the thoughts away, she couldn't help but feel a lingering concern for the stranger she had encountered. What was it that had driven him to such anger? And why did she feel so affected by it?
Daisy wasn't used to feeling this way—troubled, anxious, uncertain. She was a soft-hearted girl, always looking for the good in others, always hoping for peace. But tonight, as she lay in the darkness, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, something she didn't quite understand.
A small part of her wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort, even though she knew it was irrational. He was a stranger, and she was just a soft-hearted girl who had been caught off guard by his outburst. But as the night wore on and the room grew darker, Daisy couldn't shake the image of Ferdinand's anguished expression. It haunted her, leaving her with a feeling she couldn't quite place.
Was it empathy? Or was it something deeper, something she wasn't ready to admit to herself?
Closing her eyes, she tried to let sleep take her, but even in her dreams, the image of Ferdinand's anguished face remained, a reminder that not all storms could be ignored or forgotten.