The scent of aged books hung in the air like a whisper of history, musty and calming. It was the kind of place forgotten by time — the old, almost derelict public library tucked between two abandoned buildings downtown. Dim lighting flickered above uneven oak shelves, casting long shadows over creaking wooden floors. Naledi was looking for books concerning the course she was interested in, cybersecurity. Since she was a little girl, she has loved computers, but she has never had a chance to explore her interests. She chose the old library since she did not want to be seen by people who knew Shawn or any of his family, since they were well-known in the town.
Naledi stood out like a misplaced diamond in a coal mine. Her designer coat — soft beige cashmere — swayed as she moved. Her bag, a limited-edition Hermès, sat awkwardly on the dusty table, out of place amidst the peeling wallpaper and out-of-print encyclopedias.
She drew a few glances, but none lingered like Maxwell's.
Max, the library's only full-time staff and a man with a quiet air and messy hair, blinked at her with curiosity. He had broad shoulders, which were a big contrast to the fragile way he was holding some books on the counter. He wore his black wavy hair swept back off his face, waves falling in perfect layers down to the nape of his neck.
She looked like someone who belonged in a fashion magazine, not hidden in the corner of a forgotten library, scribbling notes from a pile of cybersecurity textbooks.
Unable to contain his curiosity, he walked over.
"Need help finding anything?"
Naledi turned her head slowly, as if assessing if he was a threat. Her eyes were cautious, calculating.
"No," she answered, tone clipped but polite.
He didn't leave. "That's 'Cybersecurity Essentials' — one of the better beginner guides. Are you taking a course?"
She hesitated. "Not officially." Then added, almost defensively, "Just learning."
Max smiled gently. "Self-taught? That's impressive. Most people give up halfway."
Something in his voice — maybe the lack of condescension, maybe the shared love for the subject — softened her edge. His voice was deep, confident, and a little bit like butter.
"I want to learn without anyone's help. Not from a man who thinks I can't do things on my own."
He didn't pry, just nodded. "I majored in computer studies. I help people out from time to time. Not a tutor or anything, just… enjoy it."
That was the start of it.
Over the next few weeks, Max and Naledi crossed paths more often. What began as quiet nods and one-word exchanges turned into longer conversations. He never tried to impress her, never asked too many questions, and never acted like she didn't belong.
For the first time in a long while, Naledi felt like she could just… breathe. With Max, there were no ghosts of past loves. No pity. No expectations.
And when he explained firewalls with a sketch on a napkin and laughed at his messy handwriting, Naledi laughed too.
Back at the Reed household, however, the air was tense but changing.
Melissa had made a quiet return to Shawn's life in subtle but deliberate ways. It started with Aaron, her husband, bringing Shawn home one evening after a long day at work. Melissa had waited with dinner: his favorite childhood meal — cassarolle with an apple pie, just like Margaret, his mother, used to make it.
She smiled, her voice soft and nostalgic. "Remember how you used to steal extra pie when no one was looking?"
Shawn had chuckled, cautiously. "And blame it on you."
They laughed together, a little too comfortably.
Aaron, watching the exchange, raised an eyebrow. "You're spoiling him, babe. You sure you married me instead of him?"
Melissa's laugh was too high-pitched. "He's just hungry."
But that night, when they lay in bed, Aaron turned to her with a teasing grin. "You know, sometimes it feels like you're trying to win Shawn over more than me."
Her body stiffened. "That's ridiculous."
He shrugged. "Is it?"
Melissa snapped. "Don't be an idiot, Aaron."
He went silent. But hours later, when the silence stretched too long and too heavy, she whispered, "Sorry."
He accepted it because he believed in her and because he trusted Shawn. After all, he had been there when Shawn's wife died. They were brothers, in every way that mattered, and Melissa was his dead wife's sister.
Over late-night drinks a few days later, Aaron raised a glass.
"If anything happens to me," he said quietly, "promise me you'll look after Melissa."
Shawn's brows drew together. "Don't talk like that."
"Promise me. I will do the same for you."
Shawn hesitated. "You know I will."
Aaron studied him. "Do you love your wife?"
Shawn didn't answer immediately. His eyes stared into his drink. "I don't know. I… I like her. I'm grateful. She's been there for me more since Melody died."
Aaron sighed. "Then don't waste that. You'll regret it."
"I wasn't good to her," Aaron admitted. "Because of… because of Melissa. She got in my head."
Shawn nodded, swallowing hard. "I'm going to try this marriage and make it right."
What neither of them noticed was Melissa, hidden behind the door, listening to every word. And it burned. It burned to hear that after everything—after years of holding Shawn's broken heart, waiting for something to change—he was finally opening his heart… to her.
When Shawn left, Melissa stormed into the living room. "Why are you trying to make things difficult? That woman is not good for Shawn."
Aaron's voice was low and sharp. "Stop manipulating Shawn's life. He is the only person who can choose who is worthy of him."
That night, he slept with his back to her.
Shawn drove home in silence, his mind filled with echoes of the past and fragments of what could have been. The house was quiet, lights dimmed. But as he passed the hallway to the bedrooms, a soft voice made him stop.
"…and then the frog prince said, 'I was always a prince, even before the kiss.'"
Naledi's voice, calm and warm, filtered out of Tiana's room.
Tiana giggled. "Is Daddy a prince too?"
Naledi paused. "Maybe."
"Does Daddy not love me?" The question was quiet. Too quiet.
"Why do you think that?" Naledi asked gently.
Tiana answered truthfully. "He doesn't play with me, doesn't kiss me tonight, and never eats with me."
Shawn's breath caught.
Naledi's reply was firm, though her voice wavered. "He does, baby. He just doesn't know how to show it. But I will love you twice as much, okay?"
Tiana was thoughtful. "Then does Daddy love Mommy, but he doesn't show it too?"
Naledi was silent.
Then she answered. "No, honey. We don't love each other like that. But it doesn't mean we don't love you. And that's what matters."
Shawn stepped back into the shadows, his heart aching with shame and confusion.
Later, in their bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed waiting.
Naledi entered quietly, undoing her earrings, her face unreadable.
He spoke first. "Why did you say that to her?"
She didn't look at him. "Because it's the truth."
"You said I don't love you."
She laughed — not kindly, but with disbelief.
"You don't," she said, turning to face him finally. "Isn't that the truth?"
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
She slipped into bed, back facing him. "Goodnight, Shawn."
He stared at her in silence, haunted by the sound of Tiana's voice and the weight of a truth he wasn't ready to face.