The bell downstairs had barely stopped echoing in my ears when I locked the register. Another day. Another quiet shift. I glanced once around Ashton Park, at the shelves, the soft lighting, the same calm that had wrapped around me all day. It should have felt normal. It always did.
But today. it didn't settle the same way. I reached for my bag, hesitating just for a second before turning toward the narrow staircase at the back. Home was just upstairs. It always had been.
One flight. That was all it took to leave one world and step into another.
Still, today, it didn't feel like enough distance. I climbed the stairs slowly, my fingers brushing lightly against the wooden railing. Halfway up, the smell reached me. Cinnamon warm and familiar. By the time I pushed the door open, it had already wrapped around me completely.
And just like that, the sharp edge of the day softened.
"Selena!"
Julia's voice hit me before I could even close the door.
She was sprawled across the couch, tablet in hand, hair all over the place like she'd been too busy existing to fix it. I smiled, dropping my bag near the door.
"What is it this time?"
She sat up immediately, eyes lighting up.
"I found this story, you have to read it. It's about this girl and she meets this guy and he's all mysterious and"
"Let me guess," I said, slipping off my shoes. "He barely talks, looks expensive, and has emotional damage?"
Julia gasped.
"How did you know?!"
"I've read enough of your recommendations."
She narrowed her eyes at me, then shoved the tablet forward.
"This one is different."
"They're always different."
"Just read it."
"I just came upstairs, Jules."
"Exactly. Perfect timing."
I laughed softly, nudging the tablet back toward her.
"After dinner."
"You always say that."
"And sometimes I mean it."
"You don't."
I opened my mouth to argue then stopped. She pointed at me immediately.
"Exactly."
Before I could defend myself, Grandma's voice came from the kitchen.
"Girls, wash your hands. Food is ready."
Julia jumped up.
"Saved."
"You were losing," I called after her.
"In your imagination!"
I followed more slowly, leaning briefly against the kitchen doorway.
Grandma moved like she always did steady, calm, like everything was under control without her needing to say it.
There was something reassuring about that. Dinner was already set. Soup. Fresh bread. Steam rising gently into the air, simple but it never felt small. We sat down together like we always did. Julia started talking before she even picked up her spoon.
"You will not believe what happened today"
"I probably will," I said.
She ignored me.
"So Dylan, you know the one that thinks he's smarter than everyone"
"The one who isn't?" I added.
"Yes, that one, he stood up to present and completely forgot everything."
I raised a brow.
"Everything?"
"Everything. He just stood there. Silent."
"For how long?"
"Too long."
I laughed.
Julia grinned, pleased with herself.
"Exactly."
Grandma shook her head slightly, placing more bread on the table.
"Don't laugh too much. Tomorrow it could be you."
"Never," Julia said. "I'm unforgettable."
"That's one way to put it."
She kicked my leg under the table. I smiled.
Listened.
Nodded where I was supposed to. But my mind, it kept slipping back downstairs .Back to the bookstore. Back to him. The way he had stood there. Like he didn't quite belong but wasn't trying to leave either. The way his voice carried something quiet beneath it. And the way he had looked at me.
Not through me.
Not past me.
At me.
"Selena."
Julia's voice cut through again.
"You're not listening."
"I am."
"What did I say?"
I paused.
"something about Dylan embarrassing himself."
"That was five minutes ago."
"Still counts."
"It does not."
Grandma set a plate in front of me, her gaze lingering.
"You're distracted."
I looked up.
"Just tired."
She didn't respond immediately, just studied me the way she always did when she knew I wasn't saying everything. But she let it go.
"For now," she said quietly. "Eat first."
I nodded. The conversation moved on. Julia found a new story.
A new complaint. A new reason to talk endlessly. And slowly I let myself settle into it again.
This, this was my life. Upstairs and downstairs. Books and home. Quiet and warmth.
Simple.
Predictable.
Safe.
After dinner, Julia dragged me back to the couch with her homework.
"I don't understand this," she said, pointing at her paper.
"You said that about the last one."
"Because I didn't understand that either."
I sat beside her, taking the sheet.
"You're not trying."
"I am trying."
"Barely."
She groaned, dropping her head against my shoulder.
"You're a terrible teacher."
"And yet, here I am."
We worked through a few problems.
She complained. I explained. Then explained again. At some point, we both started laughing. Not because anything was funny. Just because it felt easier than not. And for a while everything felt normal again.
Later that night, the apartment grew quiet. Julia asleep. Grandma in her room. The lights dimmed. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Just one floor below me the bookstore sat in silence. Dark, still. But it didn't feel distant. Not tonight.
My mind drifted again. Back to that moment. To the way his voice sounded.
To the way he looked at the book like it mattered. He was just a stranger, a customer. Someone who walked in and walked out. That should have been it, it always was. But this time it didn't feel finished. And somewhere between that thought and sleep, one quiet truth settled in.
For the first time in a long time.
Someone hadn't just noticed me.
They had seen me.