The days after that conversation felt like a slow unraveling of everything I had been holding inside. I had always prided myself on being the strong one, the one who kept the bookstore running, who pushed through the challenges with determination and grit. But now, with the weight of Max’s words lingering between us, I couldn’t help but wonder if we were both carrying too much to keep going at this pace. The bookstore, once a symbol of our dreams, now felt like a burden we were both struggling to shoulder.
Max was quieter now. He would still show up every morning, still take care of the daily operations, but his usual energy seemed drained, like a spark that had been extinguished before it could catch fire. It wasn’t that he was giving up, I knew that. But the relentless pressure, the nev
