Niah's POV
The next morning, Niah didn't bother with an alarm.
She woke up to sunlight softly warming her face, taking its sweet time. The city outside was still sleepy, her phone curiously quiet, and her dreams were already slipping away. It was just that gentle morning light filtering through the curtains, coaxing her into the day.
She stared at the ceiling for a while before finally moving. Her limbs felt that familiar, low hum of ache that came from holding onto too much for too long.
Since it was Sunday, she figured she'd treat herself to something a bit exciting-well, maybe not exciting for everyone else, but for her it meant trying a new recipe, which as usual would probably fail, cleaning her room, watering the plants, diving into her favorite mystery novels, and sneaking in some extra sleep. Just a simple day.
But all of that came to a halt with a knock at the door, just as she was halfway through a sip of her lukewarm milk tea, all curled up on the couch in an old hoodie and socks with more holes than actual fabric.
"Please be a meteor," she mumbled as she shuffled to the door.
When she opened it, though, it wasn't a meteor. It was Jules, wearing sunglasses she did not need, a grocery bag swinging from one arm, already halfway through her third sentence before Niah could even say hello.
"You, me, pancakes, face masks, and emotional avoidance. Let's go inside."
In less than an hour, Niah's tiny apartment was a delightful mess.
Soft jazz hummed in the background from Jules's old playlist. There were some pancake disasters, which were burnt, of course, and were replaced by cereal and instant noodles. Scented candles fought against the smell of slightly burnt butter. They painted their nails in ridiculous colors, and at one point, Jules even gave Niah glittery brows just for laughs.
It was complete chaos, loud and wonderfully pointless, just what she needed.
"You know," Jules said, lounging upside down on the couch, "for someone so into books, you really don't let yourself live much."
Niah tossed a pillow at her, laughing. "Hey, that's rude."
"True, though." Jules propped herself up. "I mean, your shifts at the bookstore, dinner mishaps, those mystery fog incidents. Girl, you could really use a side quest. Something that's not creepy."
"Like a beach day?" Niah replied dryly. "Because, honestly, I can't handle sand right now."
Jules rolled her eyes. "Not the beach! I was thinking about that community archive thing Maria mentioned. You know, with the old chapel records? They need someone to help sort through and digitize everything. You're oddly good at digging through dusty stuff. So…"
Niah blinked. "You want me to go through cryptic church files… for fun?"
"I want you to stop spiraling and do something other than staring into voids or being chased by strange hot guys."
Niah almost choked on her Lavender tea. "He wasn't stalking me!"
Jules smirked. "Sure, he didn't, you just happen to run into him all the time?"
Niah opened her mouth, then just closed it again. "I hate you."
"Love you too, darling," Jules shot back, giving her a flying kiss.
But even as they tossed jokes back and forth, the idea settled somewhere deep within her.
The archives, a new environment, a chance to break away from the bookstore while still staying close.
Maybe that's exactly what she needed.
A shift in rhythm.
"I'll think about it," she said softly after a moment.
"Think faster." Jules clinked her mug against Niah's. "You're way too interesting to stay stuck like this."
Outside, the afternoon faded into dusk.
Somewhere in the distance, a thread stirred quietly in the dark, stretching between two paths that weren't quite ready to cross yet.
Soon, the boundaries would blur.
And when they did, nothing would be the same.
* * *