Azril Zafran wasn't supposed to be here.
The library was the last place anyone would expect to find him. With his messy dark hair, leather jacket, and the kind of smirk that spelled trouble, he looked more like someone heading to a party than studying for finals.
He didn't come here to study, of course.
He came to kill time—and maybe flirt if the chance appeared.
That's when he saw her.
Tucked away in a corner by the window, with a mountain of books surrounding her, was a girl who seemed oblivious to the noise and chatter of the world. She had a simple charm—no loud makeup, no flashy outfit. Just a white blouse, jeans, and an aura that told him: not interested.
Naturally, Azril took it as a challenge.
With his trademark confidence, he strolled over and leaned casually against the table.
"Hey," he said, voice smooth like velvet, "Need a study partner?"
The girl didn't even look up.
"No, thank you," she replied flatly, flipping a page in her book.
Azril blinked. That was new. Most girls at least giggled or blushed when he spoke.
"Come on," he said, trying again. "You look like you could use a break. Coffee's on me."
This time, she looked up. Her eyes—sharp, clear, and utterly unimpressed—met his.
"I don't take breaks," she said coolly. "And I don't take coffee from strangers."
Azril felt a strange twist in his chest.
Not rejection.
Intrigue.
"Then maybe," he said, pulling out the chair across from her, "we should change that. I'm Azril."
"Good for you," she said dryly, returning to her book.
For a second, Azril just sat there, watching her.
Who was this girl?
And why, for the first time in a long time, did he feel like the one chasing… instead of being chased?
Little did Azril know, that ordinary afternoon in the library would be the start of something he had never planned for—something real.