The hushed air of the university library, usually thick with the rustle of turning pages and the soft tap of keyboards, vibrated with a different kind of tension. Vivaan Rathore, heir to the university's founder, leaned against a towering shelf of ancient tomes, his presence a dark, potent magnet. Ananya Malhotra, ostensibly engrossed in a textbook, felt his gaze, a physical weight on her skin. The late afternoon light, filtered through tall, arched windows, painted stripes across the dusty floor, illuminating only their isolated corner.
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