Because Of You

The air in the library hums with a tense undercurrent, the kind that prickles at the back of your neck. "I know it is not right to say something like this," a guy, who seems to have unwittingly become the spokesperson for every man in the room, addresses me. His gaze is hesitant yet firm, a strange mix of apology and resolve. "But we, all of us men here, have agreed that it's best if you no longer frequent the library."

I meet his gaze, my eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Why?" I ask, my voice steady but laced with genuine curiosity.

"Can't you see for yourself why?" he retorts, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone.