Chapter 65 What’s Going On?
'THE FOLLOWING DAY'
The Faculty of Law library at 9:03 a.m. smelled of old paper, fresh printer ink, and the faint metallic tang of the coffee machine in the corner. Tall windows let in pale morning light that slanted across long oak tables, catching dust motes in slow golden spirals. The room was quiet— only the soft scratch of pens, occasional page-turns, and the low hum of the HVAC. Most students were still scattered across campus after yesterday’s LAW 600 exam; the library felt almost private.
Maggie pushed through the heavy glass doors, blue denim jacket open over a white tee, matching denim skirt brushing mid-thigh, white Nikes silent on the carpet. In her right hand she carried an eco-friendly kraft paper drink carrier— three tall cups nestled inside, lids still steaming faintly. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose ponytail; her face glowed with a quiet, unshakable smile that hadn’t faded since she woke up.
She crossed straight to the front desk. Ms. Elizabeth— mid-thirties, white, blonde hair pinned in a neat chignon, navy cardigan over a cream blouse— looked up from her computer screen and smiled the moment she saw Maggie.
“Good morning, Maggie.”
“Morning, Ms. Elizabeth.” Maggie’s smile widened— bright, genuine— as she set the carrier on the counter. “Brought you something.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked to the cups; her expression softened with familiar warmth. “You’re too kind. You always do this.”
Maggie lifted one of the coffees—l abeled “Elizabeth – oat milk latte, extra foam”— and slid it across the counter. “It’s nothing. I enjoy doing nice things for people I’ve grown fond of.”
Elizabeth took the cup, fingers brushing Maggie’s briefly. A light blush touched her cheeks. “You’re one of the good ones we still have around here. Your parents raised you right.”
Maggie laughed— soft, self-deprecating. “I don’t know about that.”
Elizabeth sipped, eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “Perfect, as always. Thank you.”
Maggie leaned one elbow on the counter. “I need another book from Course Reserves.”
“Which course?”
“LAW 610 – Trial Advocacy.”
Elizabeth’s fingers were already moving across the keyboard. “What title?”
“Advanced Trial Advocacy. Charles H. Rose III, fourth edition.”
“Got it.” Elizabeth rose, smoothed her cardigan, and walked toward the tall, locked shelves behind the desk. She keyed in a code; the glass door slid open. A minute later she returned with the thick hardcover— navy blue, gold lettering— scanned the barcode with a quiet beep, and slid it across the counter.
“Here you are.”
“Thanks.” Maggie handed over her student ID— black plastic, photo slightly faded. “Two weeks, please. Trial Advocacy exam is in two weeks. I’ll only return it after.”
Elizabeth scanned the card— another soft beep— then typed the due date into the system. “Two weeks it is.” She smiled— warm, encouraging. “Good luck with the exam. You’ve got this.”
Maggie tucked the book under her arm. “Appreciate it. Take care.”
“You too, sweetheart.”
Maggie turned, coffee carrier in one hand, book in the other, and made her way toward the back of the library— past rows of silent study carrels, past the humming printers, to her usual spot: a long table near the windows, partially hidden by tall bookshelves. Lily was already there— curled in a chair, laptop open, hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands, ponytail messy from sleep.
Lily looked up as Maggie approached— eyes lighting. “There she is.”
Maggie set the carrier on the table with a soft thud. “Morning, sunshine.”
“Morning, glowy.” Lily’s gaze dropped to the cups. “Wait— is one of those for me?”
Maggie lifted the middle cup— labeled “Lily – vanilla oat latte, extra cinnamon”— and slid it across. “Obviously.”
Lily snatched it, popped the lid, inhaled deeply. “You’re an angel.” She took a long sip— then winced, mouth open in a silent hiss. “Fuck— hot.”
Maggie laughed— bright, bubbling— dropped into the chair beside her. “Sorry. Should’ve warned you. I told them extra hot because you always complain when it cools down.”
Lily blew on her tongue dramatically. “Fuck you.” But her eyes sparkled— grateful, fond.
Maggie opened her new book— pages crisp, spine cracking softly— then glanced at Lily’s screen. “What are you reading?”
“Direct examination techniques. Rose’s chapter on witness control.” Lily tapped her own copy— same navy hardcover. “You?”
Maggie flipped to a dog-eared page. “Opening statements. I’m starting with Rose’s framework— storytelling versus argument. We should read different chapters, then teach each other at the end. Cover more ground faster.”
Lily’s brows lifted— impressed. “Smart. I like it.”
Maggie smiled— small, satisfied. “Cool.”
They settled in— heads bent over books, pens scratching, occasional sips of coffee. The library hummed quietly around them— pages turning, a printer whirring in the distance, the soft clack of keyboards.
Half an hour passed. Lily glanced up— casual check— and caught Maggie’s face. Maggie was reading, but her lips were curved in a soft, constant smile— eyes bright, cheeks faintly flushed, the kind of expression that had nothing to do with Trial Advocacy.
Lily set her pen down. “Okay. You’ve been smiling like that the whole time you've got here. What’s going on?”