CHAPTER FIVE
1257 Words
ELARA’S POV
“I’ll do it.”
The words left my mouth before I could overthink them.
My mom, who was making lunch paused like she wasn’t sure she heard me right.
“You will?” she asked carefully.
I nodded once, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. “Yes… I’ll help your friend. Just this once.”
Something shifted in her expression. Relief. I wasn’t sure. But she didn’t overreact. She just gave a small nod, like she understood that this wasn’t something to make a big deal out of.
“Okay,” she said gently. “That’s okay.”
I exhaled slowly, not realizing I had been holding my breath.
“I’ll call her,” she added. “You can meet her today if you’re up for it.”
I hesitated.
Then nodded again.
“I’ll go.”
The boutique wasn’t as big as I expected.
It sat on a quiet street, the glass doors reflecting the afternoon sun. Inside, there were racks of clothes still wrapped in plastic, boxes stacked in corners, and the faint smell of fresh paint lingering in the air.
It wasn’t ready.
Not yet.
“Ah, you must be Elara!”
A woman walked toward me with a bright smile, her energy almost too much against how I felt inside.
“I’m Mrs Horace,” she said, extending her hand.
I shook it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Your mother has told me so much about you,” she continued, already leading me further inside. “She said you have an eye for beautiful things.”
I almost corrected her.
I almost said, not really.
But instead, I just nodded politely.
She began talking about the opening, the guests, how she wanted something “simple but classy.” I listened, or at least I tried to.
At first, everything felt distant.
Her voice.
The space.
Even myself.
“…nothing too loud,” she was saying. “Just something elegant. Memorable, you know?”
I glanced around the store again.
Boxes. Unarranged racks. Bare corners.
A blank space.
Something about that made me pause.
“What kind of crowd are you expecting?” I heard myself ask.
She blinked, then smiled wider. “Oh! About thirty to forty people. Close friends, a few business partners…”
I nodded slowly, my eyes scanning the room again.
“And the theme?” I asked.
“Well… I hadn’t really thought that far,” she admitted.
I took a step forward, almost unconsciously.
“If it’s a boutique opening, the space should reflect that,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Minimal, but intentional. Maybe soft colors… neutral tones. Gold accents if you want something a bit elevated.”
She stared at me.
Not in a bad way.
Just… surprised.
I shifted slightly under her gaze.
“And lighting matters,” I added, quieter now. “Nothing too harsh. Warm lights would make the space feel more… inviting.”
There was a pause.
“That’s brilliant,” she said excitedly.
I blinked.
“It is?”
“Yes!” she laughed lightly. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I was struggling to figure out.”
Something in my chest moved.
Small.
But noticeable.
We spent the next hour walking around the space.
Talking.
Well… she did most of the talking, and I responded when necessary.
But slowly, without realizing it, I started asking more questions.
Making suggestions.
Moving things around.
“No, I think this rack should go closer to the entrance,” I said at some point, gently shifting it. “It’s the first thing people will see.”
“And maybe a small table here,” I added, pointing to a corner. “For drinks. Nothing too crowded.”
She followed my lead without hesitation.
And for a moment…
I forgot.
Forgot everything.
Forgot the weight in my chest.
Forgot the nights I couldn’t sleep.
Forgot him.
I was just… there.
Thinking.
Fixing.
Creating.
And for the first time in weeks my mind wasn’t on Noah.
The realization hit me suddenly, making me pause.
My hand stilled on a piece of fabric I had been adjusting.
A memory tried to surface.
His voice.
His smile.
I swallowed hard.
For a second, it felt like everything would come rushing back again.
Like I would lose this small moment of peace.
But I didn’t.
I took a slow breath.
And continued.
“There’s just one problem,” Mrs Horace said later, her voice slightly worried.
I looked up from the list I had been writing.
“What is it?”
“The decorator I hired… she just called. She won’t be able to make it on time tomorrow.”
I blinked.
“That’s… not good.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I don’t even know where to start looking for someone else this late.”
I stared at the space around us.
At everything we had planned.
At everything that still needed to be done.
Then I looked back at her.
“We don’t need a new decorator,” I said slowly.
She frowned. “We don’t?”
I shook my head slightly. “Not really. We already have most of what we need.”
She looked confused.
I stood up.
“We keep it simple,” I explained. “Clean layout. Focus on the clothes. Soft lighting, like we said. Maybe a few statement pieces instead of overdoing everything.”
I walked over to one of the unopened boxes and opened it.
Fabric.
Accessories.
Items that could work.
“We use what you already have,” I continued. “We arrange it properly. That’s enough.”
She watched me carefully.
“You think that would work?”
I met her eyes.
“Yes.”
There was a brief pause.
Then she nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it your way.”
By the time I got home, my body felt tired.
But not the heavy, dragging kind of tired I had grown used to.
This was different.
Lighter.
My mom looked up from the couch as I walked in.
“How was it?” she asked.
I slipped off my shoes slowly.
“It was… okay,” I said.
She studied me for a moment.
Then a small smile formed on her lips.
“You look different,” she said.
I frowned slightly. “Different how?”
“Just… a little more like yourself.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
So I just nodded and walked to my room.
That night, as I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind wasn’t completely empty.
It wasn’t full either.
But it wasn’t hollow like before.
There was something there now.
Something small.
A sense of… control.
And maybe…
Just maybe…
That was enough for now.
AT THE HOSPITAL
The room was quiet. Too quiet except for the steady beeping of the monitor. .
For weeks, nothing had changed.
Nothing had moved.
Until,
A slight twitch of his fingers. It was barely noticeable.
Then again.
His fingers moved.
Slowly.
Weakly.
Like his body was remembering something it had forgotten.
His eyelids fluttered.
Once.
Twice.
Then, they opened.
The light hit him instantly, making his eyes narrow in confusion.
Everything felt heavy.
His body.
His thoughts.
His breathing.
He tried to speak, but his throat felt dry.
Empty.
A faint sound escaped his lips.
“…E…la…”
He swallowed, forcing the word out.
“Elara…”
- Writer
