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I almost don’t notice her at first. I’m scanning the spine of a book when I hear a soft voice from behind the counter.

“Can I help you with anything?”

It’s a simple question, but when I turn, I stop dead in my tracks.

There, standing behind the counter with her hands resting lightly on an open book, is a woman with the kindest face I’ve ever seen.

She’s older than me, but her eyes, those green eyes, are so familiar, they make my chest tighten. It takes me a second to realize why.

She looks exactly like Nick. Exactly.

I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. The eyes, the shape of her face, the way she carries herself—it’s all there, in front of me, without a single word spoken.

I hesitate for a second. I don’t know what to say. My heart’s beating faster than it should, and I can’t seem to gather my thoughts.

All I can do is take a small step forward and ask the only question that’s been eating away at me for days.

“Do you… do you know someone named Nick Ashford?”

She blinks, and for the briefest of moments, I see a flicker of something.

Recognition? Surprise? Whatever it is, she masks it quickly, the smooth demeanor never leaving her face.

“I know him,” she says simply, almost too calm.

I swallow, the words hanging in the air between us like an unspoken invitation. It feels like the room just got smaller.

I take a cautious step closer, unable to help myself.

“You do?” My voice is hesitant, as if I’m still trying to gauge her reaction, unsure of what this all means. “How… do you know him?”

She looks at me more closely now, her gaze appraising, before she speaks again. “Who are you?”

There’s no immediate judgment in her voice, but the question feels sharp, like she’s trying to piece something together about me.

I hesitate, my heart racing. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

“I’m Sara,” I manage. “I… I’m with Nick.”

It feels strange saying it aloud, but it also feels like the only thing that matters right now.

She studies me for a moment, and for a second, I wonder if I’ve said too much. But then she nods slightly, as if my words have clicked into place.

“Nick and I…” She trails off, her voice distant now, almost like she’s pulling herself back from some memory she didn’twant to revisit. “We don’t talk much anymore. But we’re… related.”

I blink, the air suddenly feeling too thick. This is the moment that could shed light on everything I’ve been wondering about Nick.

But I don’t know how to process what’s unfolding.

The silence stretches between us, and I don’t know how to break it.

Finally, she gestures toward a small seating area in the back of the store. “Would you like some tea? I think we both could use something calming.”

I don’t need to think twice. “I’d love that.”

She leads the way through the maze of bookshelves, and I follow her, suddenly struck by how strange it feels to be in the presence of someone who knows Nick so intimately, yet remains a mystery to me.

We settle at a small wooden table in the back, the scent of tea leaves mixing with the musty, earthy scent of old books. The quiet in here is almost sacred.