Chapter five
1090 Words
CHAPTER FIVE – ANDREA
The trip north felt endless.
Train after train. Then a local bus. Then another train, packed with strangers who smelled like travel and impatience. Finally, a slow, quiet ferry that pulled away from the mainland like it was severing my last connection to the life I used to know.
I stood by the railing, the wind pushing my hair back, salt in the air. The island shimmered in the distance like a watercolor painting. Green hills. Bright rooftops. Narrow streets winding down into the sea.
By the time we docked, my throat was tight with a foreign feeling. It wasn't grief, not quite hope also.
How my life just turned upside down in the space of two weeks remains a mystery.
But I was determined to embrace this new change.
I'll think later.
The breeze smelled like hibiscus and cinnamon bread. And freedom.
When we docked, I didn’t rush, just walked with my duffel slung over one shoulder, the soles of my shoes soft against the cobbled paths. I wanted to take my time and explore a little before locating the bookstore.
Locals passed by with baskets, bicycles, and laughter. Everyone looked like they knew each other.
And for once, I didn’t mind being the stranger.
A boy ran past with a kite dragging behind him. A man waved at me from a flower stall. I waved back, just because I could and it felt refreshing.
Soon I was standing in front of the book store.
The sign read:
FRIDA’S NOOK — Books & Brews
I blinked.
“This is supposed to be small?” I muttered.
The building was two stories tall, glass-paned and charming, with vines curling around the columns. Outside, wooden tables were set for tea and conversation, soft music drifting through the air.
Ramona lied.
I stepped inside.
The smell of old pages, cinnamon and coffee beans hit me at once. Warm and inviting.
And then I saw her—Frida.
She looked exactly like Ramona, only younger and livelier. Her curls were pinned up with two pencils, and her cheeks were flushed as if laughter lived there full-time.
“You must be Andrea!” she chirped when she noticed me at the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron and coming toward me with open arms. “Oh my goodness, you’re even prettier than Ramona said!”
“I… hi.”
“Oh, you’re exhausted, poor thing. That journey’s a beast. But welcome, welcome, welcome! We've been expecting you. She sent pictures and stuff so we wouldn't miss you.”
She hugged me, and I let her. Because I needed it and because she seemed to mean it.
“I’m Frida,” she said brightly. “Ramona’s baby sister. She told me you’d been through a hell-storm, but don’t worry, you'll be safe in my little paradise. Consider yourself home.”
She gestured around proudly. “Bookstore’s upstairs, café is down here, and there's a spare room out back waiting just for you. Come, I’ll introduce you!”
I followed her past the espresso bar to the back, where a teenage girl sat with a laptop, headphones around her neck.
“Ellie,” Frida called. “This is Andrea. She’s staying with us for a while.”
The girl looked up, eyes warm. “Hi.”
Then a boy came barreling in from a side door, grinning, chocolate on his chin.
“Tony,” Frida said, snatching him up. “Say hello.”
He waved. “Hi! Are you the lady who’s gonna be my new auntie?”
I blinked. “I… I can try.”
Frida laughed. “You don’t have to, he’s just dramatic. Okay, let’s show you around upstairs.”
---
The bookstore was quiet and sunlit, every shelf polished, the titles arranged in a loving, slightly chaotic way.
There were handwritten notes under some books: Frida’s Favorite — Gutted me in the best way — Read this with tissues.
“She’s... beautiful,” I whispered, eyes darting from one polished bookshelf to another.
“She’s mine,” Frida said with pride. “Built it up with my husband after we moved here ten years ago. He’s back soon, he and his boys went out to fish —you’ll love him.”
“Thank you for letting me come.” I said gratefully.
I was already feeling the warmth from the place and imagining how peaceful it would be compared to the chaos that was my life before.
She stopped walking. “You don’t owe me thanks, darling. We're glad to help. Ramona trusts you. That’s enough.”
I nodded, my throat suddenly tight.
“You’ll help around when you’re ready,” she added. “But for now, just rest.”
We started descending the stairs again back to the bustling cafe.
“This is where most of the magic happens,” she beamed happily. “You just missed happy hour, you'd have seen them go crazy for my cinnabons and triple chocolate cookies!”
“You bake too?” I asked. Though I shouldn't be surprised. Ramona is also a magician in the kitchen.
“From scratch!” She chirped happily, clapping her hands for emphasis. “I have so many special customers on and off island who come just for the baked goods. One of who would be very disappointed when he learns he missed out on his favorite adult treat.” She said proudly looking over the display counter.
A breeze swept through the cafe as the door opened. We both turned around to see a tall Male with wind tousled dark hair and aviator sunglasses.
Frida gasped. “Speak of the devil!”
He rushed towards us and wrapped his muscular arms around Frida, lifting her off the ground a bit.
“Oh, look at you, all fancy and city-worn. You smell like sea! Put me down this instant.” She tried to sound stern but was already chuckling as he set her down.
He chuckled lightly too. “Missed you too, Fri.”
He straightened and took off his sunglasses.
Everything around me stopped.
I gasped audibly. Him.
The man from the condo. The man in the photos. The man whose bed I woke up in on the night my world fell apart.
Our eyes locked and I knew instantly that he recognized me too.
His brows twitched—barely—but I saw the flicker.
He knew.
And I knew he knew.
Frida was still talking. But I didn’t hear a word.
- Writer
