The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the library, casting long, golden beams across the wooden floors. Lianne sat at the corner table, the place where she always found solace, surrounded by stacks of medical textbooks, lecture notes, and her latest attempts at organizing her thoughts. Despite the heavy workload, she couldn't help but feel her mind wandering. Her pen traced patterns over the page as she absentmindedly went through her notes, but her thoughts were far from the material she was supposed to be studying.

Callan's letters were the ones that lingered in her mind, their words as vivid as if she had just read them the night before. She still couldn't shake off the way his words had made her feel - as though she had stepped into another world, one where nothing else mattered except the emotions they shared. But now, she hadn't heard from him in what felt like weeks.

Her fingers ran over the edges of the page in front of her, mindlessly flipping through notes. It was then that something caught her eye.

At the bottom corner of the page, in the margin, was a small scribble - a name. It was written in a neat, unfamiliar handwriting, almost as if it didn't belong there. The letters were elegant, their curves flowing effortlessly together, and yet, there was something distinct about the way they were written. Lianne's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the name.

"Callan."

She stared at the word, heart pounding in her chest. How could it be? The name wasn't just randomly written; it was placed there carefully, almost as if it had been waiting for her to find it.

Had he been here? Had he sat at this very table, his pen leaving his mark in the margins of her notes? The thought that Callan had been so close - so near - without her even knowing filled her with a rush of excitement and confusion.

Lianne reached for her phone, her hands trembling slightly as she unlocked it and scrolled through her messages, hoping, just hoping for a sign, a simple text, a reply to any of the messages she'd sent. But the screen remained empty, the silence between them growing louder with every passing moment.

She ran her fingers over the margins of the page again, tracing the name as if by doing so, she could somehow bridge the distance that had suddenly appeared between them. A soft sigh escaped her lips. She missed him. She missed everything about their moments together - the quiet exchanges, the knowing looks, the way he had made her feel as if she mattered.

But there was still so much she didn't understand. Why had he disappeared? Why hadn't he answered her?

Lianne's gaze shifted from the name in the margin back to the books and notes that surrounded her, but it was no use. The words on the pages blurred in front of her as her mind wandered back to Callan and the connection they had shared. She wasn't sure where this was all leading, but one thing was clear: whatever it was, it wasn't over. Not yet.

She couldn't let it end like this.

Determined, she packed her things and headed out of the library, her mind set on finding the answers she needed - even if it meant taking risks. The name in the margin, written as if it had been waiting for her, was a sign. She wasn't going to let him slip away without knowing the truth.