It was a quiet autumn afternoon at Columbia University's main library. The only sounds were the soft rustle of pages turning and the rhythmic clatter of keyboards. Sunlight poured through the towering arched windows, casting golden beams across the aged wooden desks, lending the space a solemn, almost sacred, air of academia.
Lena Hartley sat by the window, surrounded by heavy psychology textbooks. Her fingers traced the edge of a page titled Introduction to Criminal Psychology. Her long black hair shimmered softly under the sun's touch. At twenty, Lena had a kind of quiet beauty—not the kind that screamed for attention, but the kind that lingered in one's mind.
"Damn it…" she murmured under her breath, frowning slightly.
She needed a credible source on antisocial personality disorder to complete her assignment for Dr. Vasquez. But the book she was after had already been checked out. Worse yet, none of the databases yielded a decent alternative.
"Need some help?"
A warm male voice spoke up behind her, touched with a faint, refined British accent.
Lena turned around to see a young man standing behind her. He looked about twenty-five, with striking blue eyes and tousled brown hair. Dressed in a white shirt and a dark sweater, he radiated an artistic elegance. But it was his smile that truly stood out—sincere, radiant, the kind of smile that could melt away bad days.
"I'm William. William Langston. I'm in the Art Department," he introduced himself, his deep voice laced with easy charm. "I noticed you seemed to be having a bit of trouble."
Lena offered a small, sheepish smile. "I'm Lena, psychology major. I've been trying to find a book on antisocial personality disorder, but…"
"The Hare Psychopathy Checklist?" he interrupted gently, a spark of knowing in his eyes.
Lena blinked. "How did you know?"
William's smile softened. "I'm fascinated by psychology too—especially abnormal psych. You see, art, to me, is about understanding the complexities of human nature." He paused. "And I know exactly where you can find what you're looking for."
"Really?" Hope flickered in her eyes.
He nodded and motioned for her to follow. They weaved through the library's quieter, more obscure back sections—where shelves carried rare academic journals and seldom-touched research volumes. William pulled out several thick bound copies with practiced ease.
"These are volumes of The Journal of Abnormal Psychology," he explained. "Some of Robert Hare's original essays are in here—arguably more valuable than the book itself."
Lena skimmed the pages and lit up. "This is exactly what I needed! You're a lifesaver."
"My pleasure," William replied with a smile that seemed to warm even the musty corners of the old library. "Helping you is an honor."
Back at Lena's table, William took the seat beside her naturally.
"What's your paper about, if you don't mind me asking?" he said, glancing at her open notebook.
"It's for Dr. Vasquez. I'm researching early behavioral indicators of antisocial personality disorder," Lena said, arranging her materials. "I'm especially drawn to criminal psychology. I want to work in the field someday."
A flicker passed through William's eyes—gone in a blink, replaced by his gentle expression.
"That's a meaningful path," he said smoothly. "Did you know? My artwork often delves into the darker sides of human emotion. Perhaps we can share perspectives."
"Your artwork?" Lena asked, curious.
"Psychological portraits," William said. "I try to capture what lies beneath—emotions, instincts, desires. The things people hide."
"That sounds… fascinating," she admitted. "I never realized how closely art and psychology could be tied together."
"They're both attempts to unravel human nature," William said softly. His voice had a calm, melodic quality, almost hypnotic. "They just use different tools."
Their conversation stretched on, gliding from academic theories to life goals, from artistic philosophy to psychological analysis. William's insight and thoughtful responses were unlike anyone Lena had met. For the first time, she felt a genuine intellectual spark with someone.
"Time flies," Lena said eventually, glancing at her watch. It was already five in the afternoon. "I should head out—study group tonight."
"Of course." William stood as well. "It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Lena."
They gathered their things. William, ever the gentleman, carried her bag for her. At the library's entrance, they paused.
"If you don't mind…" William said, a little shyly, "I'd love to draw your portrait. You have this... unique energy. I'd really like to capture it."
Lena blushed. "I don't really know how to pose…"
"No need to pose," he assured her, smiling. "I just want to draw the real you."
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "Alright."
William's smile widened. "Wonderful. Here's my number," he said, handing her a small note.
As William walked away, Lena looked down at the paper. In elegant handwriting were his name and phone number. But in the corner, there was a small, exquisite sketch—a side profile of her, deeply focused on a book.
"When did he draw this?" she whispered, heart skipping a beat.
The sketch was stunning. It didn't just look like her—it felt like her. He had somehow captured the way she looked when immersed in study. The way her lips curled slightly, the tilt of her head, the calm concentration in her eyes.
As she walked back to her dorm, William's smile replayed in her mind. There was something about him—so kind, so smart, so… intense. A quiet seed was planted in her heart that afternoon.
"Maybe," she thought to herself, "this was fate."
What she didn't know was that, in a shadowed corner of the library, William was watching her leave through the window. A contented smile played on his lips.
In his sketchbook lay not just the portrait he gave her—but dozens more. Drawings of her from different places, at different times: in cafés, in lecture halls, walking across campus.
Each sketch carefully dated.He had been watching her for a long time.
And on the final page of that book, a single word was written in flowing script:"Perfect."
Today was only the beginning.