The library where Maribel worked was quiet. She was organizing some shelves when her watch struck noon. At that time, Misty had probably already left the apartment. She closed a dusty volume carefully, as if that act set a new rhythm for the day. She wasn’t expecting interruptions. But she felt a presence walk in.

MARK
(with a confident tone, unannounced from the entrance)
—Finally. I thought you'd have the day off.

MARIBEL
(without looking up yet)
—You’re not supposed to be here.

MARK
(approaching)
—Why’s that? You denying people the right to read now?

The library had its rules, and Mark’s presence was heavy. He hadn’t asked permission, hadn’t said hello—he barged in like time had stopped for him. Maribel squinted slightly. There was something about his carefree walk that clashed with the ordered quiet of the place.

MARIBEL
—This isn’t a waiting room or your office, Mark. I’m working.

MARK
—I came to talk. It’s about Misty. Isn’t that what you wanted?

MARIBEL
(crossing her arms)
—You didn’t even let me know. Again. Do you realize what that means?

MARK
(shrugging)
—You know how my work is. I barely have time for myself—it’s a miracle I could swing by at all.

From across the hall, a young librarian, with a round glasses, approached timidly.

LIBRARIAN
—Excuse me… there’s no talking out loud. Is he with you maribel?

MARIBEL
(extending an arm toward her)
—No. He’s leaving.

MARK
(smiling, with that tone he used when everything went his way)
—I didn’t know Ms. Anna didn’t work here anymore. Are you her granddaughter?

The librarian looked down, a faint blush crossing her cheeks. Maribel noticed it instantly: that soft, slightly charming tone always worked for him.

MARK
—I mean, it’s hard to imagine someone with such a gentle voice running this place. You must be hiding something. Should I find out? Maybe after your shift over coffee?

LIBRARIAN
(hesitant, glancing between Maribel and him)
—I... I probably shouldn’t…

MARK
—You’d be doing her a favor. She needs a break, and I need to talk to her. An innocent favor?

MARIBEL
(gritting her teeth)
—No, no, no… You naughty.

But it was too late. The librarian nodded timidly and quietly told Maribel she could take the rest of the day off. Mark winked at her in thanks before the young woman vanished behind a shelf.

MARIBEL
(grabbing him firmly by the arm)
—Get Out. Now.

Out on the street, the sun fell on them like judgment.

MARIBEL
(embarrassed by Mark’s behavior)
—Seriously, Mark? That’s your way of fixing things?

MARK
—Hey, you can’t deny it worked. At least now we can talk.

MARIBEL
—Talk about what? How you decided to move a stranger into my home without even telling me?

MARK
—It’s not like that. Just… spontaneous.

Maribel pressed her lips together—her face a mix of disappointment and fatigue.

MARK
—Misty… she had nowhere to go. When I found her, she was in bad shape—sick, really. She needed medical attention. I couldn’t leave her there. Not after seeing how she really is...

MARIBEL
—And because you felt sorry for her, I’m supposed to adopt her?

MARK
(sighing)
—Look, she was hospitalized. When they discharged her, that’s why I sent her to you. She’s not that different from you. Actually, you two are more alike than you think.

He said no more, he took a pair of bills from his pocket and walked to a nearby cart. He bought two ice creams and came back, handing one to Maribel.

MARK
—Wanna one?

MARIBEL
(not taking it yet)
—So this is how you fix everything? Why didn’t she stay with you?

MARK
—In Central it’s not easy, Maribel. The rules are strict. If I have more than one tenant, they kick me out—or triple my rent.

She took the ice cream without looking at him, but didn’t take a single bite.

MARIBEL
—You say we’re alike? Maybe. We’re both good at getting abandoned.

It was a direct shot. Mark looked away, pretending it didn’t hurt—but it showed, in the way he scratched his neck and let out a tense laugh.

MARK
—Damn… harsh joke. You won’t even let me land a punchline.

They kept walking, ice cream in hand, with a silence that said more than words ever could. Mark strolled beside her unhurried, like the street belonged to no one else. The ice cream began to melt between his fingers, and he tossed it in a trash bin.

MARK
—Remember the story? The one about the orphan siblings who lived in the ruins? Made magical campfires and, when they finally fell asleep, they dreamed the life they wanted into existence?

Maribel let out a short exhale.

MARIBEL
—I know it by heart. You told me every time it rained, when we weren’t sure if the roof would survive the night.

MARK
—I know. And yet, we still remember it. Because it wasn’t just a story. It was what we had. We gave each other junk nobody else cared about—but it mattered to us. A stolen candy, a torn jacket, your drawings… your first book.

He glanced at her sideways.

MARK
—You used to draw a house. One with a solid roof, lots of windows. You said we’d live there someday.

Maribel didn’t respond. She just took a bite of her ice cream, eyes down.

MARK
—I didn’t give up, Maribel. You have it now. Or something close to it.

MARIBEL
(still not looking at him)
—But in the process, you left me locked in that library. Gave me a book, my backpack, and vanished.

A silence heavier than all the others followed. Distant traffic, passing footsteps—everything seemed to pause.

MARK
—I’m sorry. When the time is right… I’ll tell you why I did it.

She didn’t push. Just lowered her shoulders slightly, like someone too tired to fight anymore. In that moment, she looked different—her face barely touched by sadness, the ice cream dripping from her hand. Mark didn’t try to explain himself further. He spoke gently, as if talking to the Maribel from before.

MARK
—Do me this favor, will you? She just got out of the hospital. She’s really not that different from you.

No response. But no rejection either.

The sun dipped behind the buildings as they reached the apartment. The heat had become bearable, and the streets were turning golden.

Maribel opened the door with a hint of resignation. Mark stepped in behind her.

And then they heard it:

MISTY
(loud, intense, dominant voice)
—Say it again, brat!

In the middle of the living room, Misty had Hasui pinned with a chokehold. She was on top of him, pressing him down with a grin that was half cruel, half amused.

HASUI
(gritting his teeth)
—Okay, okay! You’re the best fighter! I said it!

MARIBEL
(placing a hand on her temple)
—Oh my god…

MARK
—Well… looks like they’re getting along.

Misty looked up and greeted them with a single wave—without letting go of Hasui.

MISTY
—Oh, you’re back! Don’t worry, I was just teaching him not to underestimate me. All under control!

Hasui flailed a hand in a silent plea for help, but didn’t seem in real danger. Maribel closed the door with a long sigh, while Mark chuckled quietly to himself, as if, chaotic as the scene was, something about it made him feel at home.