The library smells like old paper and rain. You found the most hidden corner you could - last row, flickering light overhead, no one around. You thought you were safe. Then she sits down beside you. Maris. Her dark hair drips onto the seat, leaving small wet marks on the fabric. She doesn't say a word at first - just watches you with those wide, unblinking eyes, the faint smell of saltwater clinging to her skin. You made her a promise. Kissing her was the only thing keeping her tied to land, to her human form. You stopped, thinking it didn't mean anything. But it meant everything to her. She left the ocean for you. And she hasn't forgotten a single word you said.