The library smelled weird—books that hadn’t been touched in years, maybe something damp rotting under the floorboards, or just… old wood and silence. Camille’s legs were stiff, crammed under the too-low table, one knee knocking against Adrian’s. She couldn’t tell if she was shivering or just couldn’t stop moving. Her fingers were clenched in her lap, sweaty and cold. Ellie hummed beside her, totally unbothered, dragging a crayon across her sketchpad like the world wasn’t about to fall apart—again.

Adrian’s hand brushed her knee. Not romantic, not even comforting. Just there. Heavy. Like a reminder she hadn’t asked for.

That letter. The one about David—no, not just him. Someone else....