The rain was pouring hard outside the little bookstore on the corner. It was already past closing time, but Emma didn’t mind. She liked the quiet after the last customer left. She was wiping down the counter when the bell above the door jingled.
Alex stepped in, shaking water from his dark hair. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with that quiet confidence that always made her stomach flip a little. He came almost every evening, usually just to browse or buy one book he never seemed to finish. Tonight his eyes found her right away.
“Still open?” he asked, voice low and smooth.
Emma smiled shyly. “For you? Always.”
They talked for a while like they always did — about books, about the rain, about nothing important. But something felt different tonight. Maybe it was the way the storm made the
