I was just a normal girl who moved from India to Italy to study medicine. All those years of being a hardworking student since the 10th grade had finally paid off.

The day my chapter in Italy opened was beautiful. The University of Milan was my absolute dream university. I never thought I could achieve it, but my friends, my courage, and my belief paid off in the end. Going into my classes, I never expected any kind of romance or love. My mind was focused entirely on my future. But being at your dream university doesn't change the reality of the grueling work. The endless hours in the hospital, running back and forth for patients, and coming home late at night became my everyday routine. What ended up happening next was entirely beyond my wildest imagination. Falling in love with a ghost was never my intention, but his sharp wit was permanently inked into the margins of the library's forbidden archives.

That night was different. I was so frustrated and tired that I didn't even want to walk myself to my dorm. The safest place I knew was our college's old library. It stayed open 24/7 for students like us, so I slipped inside and took a seat in a quiet corner. The library was dimly lit, and the main light falling over me came from the moon shining through a massive glass window.

Needing something familiar, I reached out and picked up one of my favourite books: a text on human anatomy. It was an old, weathered book with yellowed pages and a worn-out cover. But the writing on its front page caught my eye—the calligraphy was so exquisite it looked like it was popping right off the page.

I went directly to the page of the human heart. A very beautiful, detailed diagram was drawn there, with a small note attached to it in fluid Italian. The note said: "Il cuore umano batte per la vita, ma il mio ha smesso di battere il giorno in cui ho smesso di sperare."I didn't know that much Italian yet, so I Googled it immediately. The results that came up were truly heart-touching: “The human heart beats for life, but mine stopped beating the day I stopped hoping.”I stared back and forth between my phone screen and the ink on the page. Only one question echoed in my mind: Who wrote this?Of course, my curious mind took the lead. I pulled out a piece of paper and grabbed my favourite pen, quickly scribbling: “Who are you? I am Pia. You can talk to me if you want.” I carefully folded the note, slipped it inside the anatomy textbook, and slid the book back onto the dark shelf where I had found it. Slowly, I gathered the rest of my things and began the quiet walk back to my dorm. Heart racing with thoughts....

Who wrote that?....