*Aria*
The next morning, as I push the heavy metal cart through the aisles of the supermarket, there's an unmistakable lightness in my steps. My mood is unusually bright, a stark contrast to the fluorescent lighting that usually feels too harsh. Today, though, everything seems softer, more pleasant, like the world itself is basking in the afterglow of last night's magic.
I'm restocking the shelves with canned goods, but my mind keeps drifting back to the rooftop. The way the stars twinkled above us, the gentle touch of Ryder's hand, and his genuine laughter. It's been years since I've felt this seen, this appreciated for just being myself, not just as a mother or a worker, but as Aria.
"Morning, Aria! You look... different today," my coworker, Jenna, remarks as she passes by with a clip
