That day, the store felt unusually calm. There were no raised voices, no complaints from customers, and no chaos in the air. For the first time in weeks, Ariella felt her shoulders relax as she arranged a new box of notebooks on the shelf. The shop had been busy recently due to the nearby school, but with the holiday break, there were fewer customers.
She had just finished wiping down the counter when the door opened, and a young man stepped in—tall and slim, with tired yet friendly eyes. He smiled politely as he surveyed the store, holding a small list in his hand.
"Good afternoon," he greeted. "Could you please tell me if you have the whiteboard markers? The good ones, not the kind that run out after just a couple of days?"
Ariella chuckled softly. "We do have the good ones… well, mostly good ones."
She led him to the aisle and selected a pack.
"You sound like someone who has experienced the woes of bad markers before," she teased lightly.
"You have no idea," he replied with a groan. "I'm a business administration student. We're always presenting something. Bad markers have embarrassed me more than heartbreak."
She laughed genuinely at his honesty.
As they made their way back to the counter, he glanced at the books she had arranged.
"Are you in school too?" he inquired.
She paused for a moment. "I… used to be."
"Oh." He nodded slowly—not with pity, but with understanding. "Life happened?"
She hesitated just a moment before nodding. Something about his calm demeanor eased her tension. He didn't press for details; he simply leaned against the counter in a relaxed manner.
"You know…" he said after a moment, absentmindedly tearing the nylon of the marker pack, "you can always go back. Maybe not right away, but eventually. School isn't going anywhere."
Ariella blinked, a little taken aback.
"Why does everyone think it's easy?"
"Because they aren't living your life," he shrugged. "But you're stronger than you realize. And you're smart. I can tell by the way you speak."
She felt warmth rise to her cheeks. "You hardly know me."
"That's the exciting part," he smiled. "I get to learn more about you."
His name was Khalid—a third-year student who lived nearby. As he waited for a transfer alert, they engaged in a meaningful conversation. They discussed school stress, unfulfilled plans, future aspirations, and mistakes they regretted.
For the first time in a long while, Ariella spoke freely, without fear of judgment. She shared how everything had fallen apart, how she was working to support herself, and how she wanted to return to school but felt uncertain about how to do so.
Khalid listened—quietly and attentively, as if he understood her pain without needing to share his own experiences.
"You deserve better than what you've been through," he said with conviction. "You will get it. Life may have scattered your plans, but it hasn't scattered you."
Ariella swallowed hard, his words resonating deeply within her.
Before he left, he playfully tapped the counter.
"I'll come by again. Perhaps we can brainstorm some business ideas together. You're too smart to just be arranging shelves."
She rolled her eyes lightly. "So now you're my life coach?"
"No, no," he laughed. "Just a guy who believes in you. That's all."
He waved goodbye as he stepped outside.
She sincerely hoped to see him again.