Chapter 1 — The Disruption

Sophie

The Archive Room was Sophie Calder’s sanctuary. Here, the weight of the world was reduced to the quiet rustle of pages, the faint hum of the dehumidifier, and the whisper of her pencil as she meticulously cataloged the library’s treasures. The scent of ink and aging paper wrapped around her like a protective cocoon. Her soft green eyes scanned the brittle parchment of a rare manuscript, her gloved fingers hovering just above the delicate surface as she recorded her observations into her notebook. She glanced briefly at the key in the lock of a nearby cabinet, its heavy iron shape a comforting reminder of the room’s security. The world outside—the noise, the chaos—faded entirely within these walls.

Until it didn’t.

A faint shuffle reached her ears, followed by the distinct creak of the hallway floorboards. Sophie’s pencil paused mid-word, her brow furrowing. Before she could fully process the sound, the heavy wooden door burst open with a crash, slamming against the wall. Sophie flinched, her pencil skidding across the page, leaving a jagged smudge through her careful notes. Her heart jolted as her hand froze mid-air.

A man stumbled into the room, tall and lean, his sandy blond hair tousled as though he’d walked through a gale. He was clutching a camera bag that sagged precariously at his side, threatening to spill its contents.

“Hello? Anyone here?” His voice, deep and rich, carried an unrepentant cheerfulness that grated against the Archive Room’s sacred quiet.

Sophie blinked, caught between irritation and bewilderment. The sign on the door clearly read “Staff Only.” Who on earth was this man, and what was he doing in the library’s most restricted space? Adjusting her glasses, she rose from her chair, her cardigan catching slightly on the armrest. Her heart raced, a mix of indignation and unease knotting in her chest.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice soft but firm, edged with the sharpness of steel. “This is a private area. You’re not allowed to be here without clearance.”

The man turned, his sharp blue eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, he looked startled. Then he broke into a lopsided grin, the kind that might have disarmed most people. Sophie, however, was not most people.

“Oh, you must be Sophie,” he said, as though they were old friends reconnecting. “Margaret mentioned you. I’m Nate Everett.”

He extended a hand, but Sophie hesitated, her gloved fingers curling slightly. When she didn’t reciprocate, he let his hand drop easily, unfazed. Instead, he took a step forward, his boots echoing softly on the polished floor.

“I’m here to—uh—get a feel for the place for my feature,” he explained, swinging his camera bag onto the nearest table with a solid thunk. Sophie winced as the sound reverberated through the room. “Did you know this room is incredible? It’s like stepping into a time capsule.”

Sophie’s irritation deepened. “Mr. Everett—”

“Nate.”

“—Mr. Everett, this room houses some of the library’s most fragile and valuable artifacts. It is not a photo op, and it is certainly not open for unscheduled visits.” Her words were clipped as she struggled to maintain her composure. Such disruptions were foreign to her carefully ordered world. She straightened her posture, though her hands, still gloved, curled into small fists at her sides.

Nate raised his palms in a gesture of mock surrender. “Got it, no touchy,” he said, backing away from the table. But his eyes roamed the room, taking in the shelves of aged manuscripts and the soft gleam of brass fixtures. His gaze lingered on one of the stained-glass windows, where light spilled gently over the wooden floor.

“Still,” he added, his tone softer now, “don’t you think this place deserves to be seen? People love stories, and this room is packed with them.”

“There’s a difference between preserving history and treating it like a spectacle,” Sophie countered, her voice tightening. She turned her attention to the manuscript on her desk, inspecting the smudge his arrival had caused. Her hands trembled slightly, her frustration threatening to crack her composure. “Your arrival has already disrupted my work.”

“Disrupted? That’s a strong word.” Nate leaned against a nearby shelf, his posture casual, though his gaze remained curious. “I’d argue I’m bringing a bit of excitement to your day.”

Sophie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “My work does not require excitement. It requires focus.” She stepped forward, careful but deliberate, meeting his gaze. “And if Margaret sent you, she should have informed me. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

A sudden clatter interrupted her. Sophie turned just in time to see one of the books Nate had been leaning against slide from the shelf. He lunged, catching it mid-air, but his awkward movement sent his camera bag tipping over. Lenses and notebooks spilled onto the floor in a noisy cascade.

“Please, be careful!” Sophie hissed, her cheeks flushing as she hurried over. She reached for the fallen book, her breath catching as she cradled it in her hands. It was an antique, its leather binding cracked with age and its gilded edges dulled but still regal. She held it as though it were a wounded bird.

“Sorry, sorry,” Nate said quickly, crouching to gather his scattered belongings. “Not my most graceful moment.” He glanced up at her, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Though, in my defense, the shelf is crooked.”

Sophie shot him a glare that could have frozen the sun. “The shelf is not crooked. You simply weren’t paying attention.”

“Fair point,” Nate admitted, standing and offering her the last of his fallen items. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t touch anything,” Sophie snapped, clutching the book tighter. “Just... stay still.”

For a moment, silence returned, save for the rhythmic hum of the dehumidifier and Sophie’s quickened breathing. Nate didn’t move, his hands retreating into the pockets of his leather jacket. His sharp blue eyes softened as they settled on her, studying her with a quiet curiosity.

“You really care about this place, don’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

Sophie glanced at him, startled by the shift in his tone. “Of course I do,” she said simply. “The library is... irreplaceable. It’s not just a collection of books; it’s a record of who we are. Every story here matters.”

Nate tilted his head, his expression losing its earlier playfulness. “Even the ones no one’s reading anymore?”

“Especially those,” she said firmly, setting the book back on its shelf with reverent care. “They’re the most in need of protection.”

For the first time since his arrival, Nate didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he nodded, his smile softening into something almost earnest. “Fair enough,” he said quietly. “But you know, protecting stories doesn’t mean keeping them locked away. Sometimes you have to share them to keep them alive.”

Sophie didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she adjusted her glasses and turned back to her desk, her mind stirring uneasily. “Mr. Everett,” she began, her tone carefully measured, “if you’re truly interested in helping the library, I suggest you start by respecting its rules. That includes scheduling your visits and respecting the boundaries of its staff.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was no mischief in his expression now, only sincerity. “Noted,” he said. “And... sorry for barging in. I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

Sophie hesitated, caught off guard by his apology. She wasn’t used to people like Nate—charming, impulsive, and entirely too confident. He was everything her ordered world was not. Yet, there was something about his earnestness that made her pause.

“Well,” she said finally, adjusting her cardigan, “just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Scout’s honor,” Nate said, holding up two fingers in an exaggerated salute. Then, with a final grin, he swung his camera bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. “See you around, Sophie.”

She didn’t correct his use of her first name, though she told herself it was because she was too focused on returning to her work. As the door clicked shut behind him, the Archive Room seemed to exhale, the quiet settling back into place.

Sophie picked up her pencil and tried to refocus on the manuscript. But Nate’s words lingered in her mind, circling like restless birds.

“Sometimes you have to share them to keep them alive.”

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. There was no room for disruption in the Archive Room—nor in her carefully ordered life.