Two weeks.
That was how long it had been. Fourteen days of the same routine. The same customers. The same shelves I could walk through with my eyes closed. And no sign of him. Not that I was waiting. Okay, maybe a little. But it wasn't like I expected him to come back. People didn't do that.
They came into Ashton Park, bought something, said a few polite words and disappeared back into whatever world they belonged to. That was how it worked.
But every now and then, I'd catch myself glancing at the door when the bell chimed. Just for a second. Just in case, it was ridiculous I knew that.
"Selena."
I blinked.
"What?"
Emilia was staring at me from across the couch, a potato chip halfway to her mouth.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you disappear mid-conversation."
"I'm right here."
"Physically, yes. Mentally?" She tilted her head. "Debatable."
I sighed, leaning back into the couch. We were upstairs, in the living room. The soft yellow lights made everything feel warmer than it actually was. The TV played low in the background, completely ignored. Julia was on the floor with her homework, though from the way she kept glancing at us, she was listening more than she was working.
"I'm fine," I said.
Emilia didn't look convinced.
"You've been 'fine' for the past ten minutes while staring at absolutely nothing."
"I was thinking."
"Exactly."
"That's not a crime."
"It depends on what you're thinking about."
I crossed my arms slightly.
"You're being dramatic."
"And you're being suspicious."
Julia suddenly looked up.
"I like suspicious."
"Of course you do," I muttered.
Emilia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
"So," she said slowly, "are you going to tell me about him?"
My stomach dropped.
"Who?"
She blinked at me.
"Really?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The guy," she said. "The one who walked into the bookstore and made you forget how to function."
Julia shot up so fast she almost dropped her pencil.
"Selena met a man?!"
"Lower your voice," I hissed.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, crawling closer.
"Because there's nothing to tell."
Emilia let out a quiet laugh.
"Oh, there's definitely something to tell."
"There isn't."
"You held the same book in your hand for, what, twenty seconds?"
"That's not true."
"Selena."
"Okay, maybe ten."
Julia gasped like this was the most shocking thing she'd ever heard.
"What did he look like?"
I hesitated.
The answer came easily.
Too easily.
But saying it out loud felt different.
"He looked normal," I said finally.
There was a pause.
Emilia blinked.
"Normal."
Julia frowned.
"That's your description?"
"I mean he was just a customer."
Emilia leaned back like she'd just been personally offended.
"You are the worst at this."
"I'm not trying to tell a story."
"Clearly."
Julia scooted even closer, completely invested now.
"Was he tall?"
"Yes."
"Nice."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Emilia smirked.
"So he's attractive."
"I didn't say that either."
"You're really bad at denying things."
I opened my mouth
then stopped.
Because honestly?
I didn't have a good argument.
Emilia pointed at me like she'd just won.
"Exactly."
I grabbed a cushion and tossed it at her.
"You're impossible."
"And you're deflecting."
"I'm not"
"You are."
Julia nodded like she was part of the jury.
"She is."
I stared at both of them.
"This is betrayal."
"This is concern," Emilia corrected.
"Concern for what?"
"For you," she said simply. "You never talk about anyone. Ever."
That slowed me down. Just a little.
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
I looked away. I didn't have a clean answer. Because the truth wasn't dramatic, it wasn't some big moment. It was just a look. A conversation. A feeling that didn't quite leave after it should have.
"He was just… different," I said quietly.
Emilia didn't interrupt this time. Julia didn't either.
"He didn't rush," I added. "Didn't act like he had somewhere better to be. And when he talked…" I hesitated, trying to find the right words.
"It felt like he meant it."
The room went quiet for a second. Emilia's expression shifted. Not teasing anymore. Just understanding.
"And he hasn't come back?"
I shook my head.
"No."
Julia frowned.
"That's rude."
I huffed out a small laugh.
"It's normal."
But even as I said it, it didn't feel completely true.
Emilia watched me carefully.
"You thought he would."
It wasn't a question.
I shrugged.
"I don't know."
But I did.
Just a little.
Not because I expected anything.
Not because I thought something would happen. Just because it didn't feel finished. Emilia leaned back again, softer this time.
"Well," she said, "if he doesn't come back, then it's his loss."
I glanced at her.
"That's dramatic."
"I stand by it."
Julia nodded.
"Same."
I shook my head, but I was smiling. The conversation shifted after that. Julia went back to her homework sort of. Emilia started talking about something else. And slowly the moment passed. Or at least, it pretended to.
Later that night, the apartment grew quiet again. Emilia had left. Julia was asleep. Grandma had gone to bed. I stood by the kitchen window, looking out at the street below. Everything looked the same. Lights on. Shops closed. A couple of people walking past, wrapped up in their own lives. Nothing out of place. Nothing unusual.
And yet my thoughts drifted again. Back to that afternoon. To the way he had stood in the bookstore. To the way his voice carried something steady beneath it. To the way he had looked at me like I wasn't easy to overlook. I rested my hand lightly against the window frame. He was just a customer. A stranger. That was all. That should have been all.
But something about it still didn't sit right. Like a sentence that hadn't quite ended. Like a story that stopped too early. I exhaled softly, pushing away from the window. Tomorrow would be the same.
The bookstore.
The shelves.
The bell over the door.
Another normal day.
I turned off the light and headed to my room. Not knowing that some stories don't end quietly. They just wait for the right moment to begin.