Chapter 4: Writing a New Story
My idea was simple, and terrifying: I would use my design skills to help her transform the shop—not just to save it, but to make it thrive. I would rebrand it, create an online presence, design beautiful custom editions, and launch a subscription service for rare finds. She would curate and tell the stories.
But to start, we needed a small investment. The very thing I didn't have.
"I have a little saved," Elena said doubtfully.
"So do I," I lied. I didn't. I had negative savings. But I had something else: the ability to work, to design, to stay up all night creating a vision so compelling it could maybe, just maybe, attract the right people.
For the next month, we lived in a whirlwind of paint samples, website code, social media posts, and whispered dreams late into the night. We grew closer in the chaos. A touch on the shoulder became a hug after a small victory. A shared laugh in the dim light became a long, quiet look that held the universe.
One night, exhausted and covered in dust, we sat back-to-back against the newly painted wall.
"Leo," she said softly, her voice vibrating through me. "Why are you really doing all this?"
I closed my eyes. The truth was a lump in my throat. "Because when I'm here, I'm not lost anymore. And I don't want you to lose this place. It's… it's you."
She was quiet for so long I thought I'd said too much.
Then, she turned around. She cupped my face in her paint-splattered hands. Her eyes searched mine. "What if," she whispered, "the thing I was most afraid of losing wasn't the shop?"
And then, she kissed me.
It wasn't a dramatic, sweeping kiss. It was gentle. A question. And my answer was to kiss her back, with all the hope I didn't know I still had.