Page 12 of Our Little Moments

Ihaven’t been able to wipe the smile off my face since I walked out of Isabella’s coffee shop. I’m giddy with hope.

I can get my magic—my life—back.

Isabella’s older brother, Adrian, told me that other people here have lost their powers, and it feels reassuring to know I’m not alone.

I grew up as a prodigy, viewed as one of a kind. A gift. Losing my magic made it that much harder. I wonder how different my life would have been if I’d grown up in a place like Westwood Spring, where magic was normal. No pressure, no expectations.

As I walk through the peaceful streets, a familiar chuckle echoes.Adrian.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, it feels like time stretches. He grins, and my heart thuds, then settles.

What is it about him? His laugh, his presence . . . it calms me. God, I don’t even know him and I feel safe. How can he have that effect on people?

I break eye contact, turn around and walk away.

My mind drifts back to my dad’s message, and a small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

I still remember the first tournament I won. It changed everything for me, and I made sure it changed my parents’ lives too. They’d never have to worry about work and money again.

I love you, sweetheart. You’ve taken care of us for so long. Take care of yourself now.

I miss him so much already.

Desperate to shake the weight of those emotions, I step into the next shop I see. That’s pretty much what I’ve done the whole day—explore the town, walking into shops and meeting new people.

A kind man smiles at me, and I realize I’ve wandered into a restaurant. This place is pure coziness. Everything here, from the tables to the walls to the decorations, is a warm shade of brown. Candles are lit everywhere, casting the place in an orange glow. I feel like I’ve stepped into a fireplace.

“Welcome,” the man’s voice snaps me back to the present.

“Hi,” I reply, still in a daze. This town is pure magic, and this restaurant is like a warm blanket.

“Is there a table for one?” I ask, wondering if I need a reservation.

You’re still a mess. You’re Stella Brookstone, since when are you spontaneous?

The young man smiles at me. “We always have room for everyone.”

I smile back as he leads me to a table.

I grab the menu and read through it, my skin prickling. I haven’t done this in so long. I’m usually the annoying one thathas to know the menu before going to the restaurant. Choosing something on the spot is something I haven’t done since I was a teenager. I’d even go so far as to say I haven’t done it since I was a literalchild.

Minutes tick by, and I’m still staring at the menu when the waiter comes over. He has a warm smile and curly brown hair, much like mine. His name tag readsJulian Griffin.

“Hello. You’re new, right?” His voice is all amusement and lightheartedness.

I laugh. “Yeah. Everyone keeps saying that.”

His grin widens. “We all know each other. Pretty easy to spot someone you don’t know.”

I grin back. “I see that now.”

He extends his hand. “I’m Julian.”

I shake it. “Stella.”

After he takes my order, he comes back to my table and starts chatting with me until my phone screen lights up with social media notifications. From the discussions I had with other people today, they do have internet here, which is why I have reception. However, none of them use it. It’s mostly for tourists visiting.

I try to ignore the notifications, but Julian smiles at me. “If you’re here to take a break from your career,” he starts, remembering what I had said just a few minutes ago, “then why don’t you turn off your social media? Do some reflection without everyone else’s opinions in the mix.

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