Chapter 2 Hazel Eyes

I skidded my skateboard to a halt in front of a house that seemed to belong in a daydream. Cozy and timeless, the two-story home whispered early 20th-century tales. Ivy-draped its brick facade, and a sign above the porch read Chapter & Hearth in a hand-painted script. It didn't just look like a bookstore; it felt like a secret portal disguised as home.

The front yard is charmed with wildflowers spilling over a stone wall and a weathered bench shaded by an old maple tree. A winding path of uneven cobblestones led to a porch where creaky wooden steps and a rocking chair by the door waited like old friends. That door, with its stained-glass panel of an open book under a tree, promised stories before I even crossed the threshold.

The bell above the door jingled as I stepped inside, and the scent hit me-old books, ink, and something inexplicably magical like the pages themselves were alive. It was intoxicating, like my personal meth. Dad always said the books in our shop were his dad's, and his dad's dad's, stretching back to the first men, or so the tale went.

The original living room is now a lounge-like area with mismatched yet stylish armchairs and a roaring fireplace in winter. Books are everywhere on the towering mahogany shelves that cover the walls, but also in artful stacks on tables, windowsills, and even the staircase. I ran my fingers along the spines, each title like a whispered invitation. The world outside ceased to exist at that moment. The honking of cars and the chatter of hurried pedestrians melted into a blissful hum, drowned by the promise of adventure between the pages. I even forgot all about school -the exact reason why I wanted to get out so badly.

The grand staircase led to the upper floor, where bedrooms had become reading nooks. One room still had its bed, now draped in a quilt and pillows for anyone to lounge with a novel. Another boasted low tables surrounded by floor cushions, perfect for kids to lose themselves in fantastical tales.

Even the kitchen had been reinvented as a café. Its original cabinetry brimmed with tea tins, mugs, and cookie jars, while a wooden counter served up coffee and pastries. The breakfast nook, tucked into a bay window, was perfect for curling up with a slice of pie and a paperback.

Out back, a walled garden unfolded like a literary oasis. A towering oak tree stood sentinel, shading wrought iron tables where summer readers gathered. At the garden's edge, an old shed had been reborn as a treasure trove of rare books, their antique spines displayed behind glass.

Every inch of the bookstore felt deliberate yet effortless as if it had always been this way. Visitors often lost themselves here, forgetting it was a shop at all, mistaking it for a long-lost sanctuary.

"Dad?" I called, my voice echoing through the store's labyrinth of stories.

No answer.

"Dad?"

Still nothing. I tossed my backpack onto the worn leather sofa and yanked my messy bun loose. After snagging a chocolate bar from the café, I grabbed a book from a nearby stack and flipped to a random page. The first line jumped out like a dare:

"Some doors, once opened, can never be closed."

A shiver ran through me. Snapping the book shut, I glanced around, suddenly hyperaware of the sunlight slanting through the windows and the dust motes spinning lazily in the air. For a moment, it felt like I wasn't alone.

Then the bell above the door jingled again, and I spun toward the sound. Seeing who it was, my feet refused to move and my half-giggling face came crumbling down to unbelief. "This is definitely the craziest day of my life, hallucinating in broad daylight", I thought within my subconscious. The most beautiful hazel eyes stared back at me, shocked at my reaction to seeing her. She smiled awkwardly as she said to break the silence "Umm.. I was told I could get a book and a whole lot of quiet here. This.. i..is the place right?" she squinted her eyes to give me the inquisitive look.

Oh, my world! That voice is so mesmerizing. It makes me want to lose myself in it. It had that mixture of power and gentility in it... oh! nah, I am not! I am as straight as straight itself. Although, that is not proven yet.

The owner of the voice was far from ordinary. She stood there, draped in an exquisitely tailored gown that seemed to have been crafted to honor her every curve and line. The fabric flowed like liquid elegance, each seam a testament to meticulous craftsmanship, as though it were fashioned for royalty or perhaps a goddess in disguise. It radiated an aura of understated luxury, where even the smallest stitch whispered of wealth and refined taste. She exuded money and class in a way that felt effortless yet undeniable.

Ordinarily, my so-called eighth sense screamed at me to steer clear of someone like her, someone who seemed worlds apart from my reality. But I wanted to be close to her, for the first time, I wanted someone to be my friend. I think it was because she was beautiful, or maybe because I had never seen her before, or maybe because she looked rich and still smiled at me - a middling!

Forcing myself out of my thoughts, I replied "This is it, you're in the right place. What kind of book are you looking for, I could help you with it". I quickly gave myself a mental slap and became as professional as possible however difficult it seemed for me. She told me she was looking for one of the series by the author Sarah J. Maas, the book 'Court of Wings and Ruin'. I walked her to the shelf which contains fantasy-romance books and went back to the counter. "I wonder where Dad is", I said looking out the window. The lady came back with a satisfied smile and the book in her hands. I took the records and directed her to the room where she would find the "quiet" she was looking for.

She tucked a loose strand behind her ear, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she blew a pink bubble. In her other hand, she held a leather-bound journal with a golden clasp. It looked older than any book on the shelves, yet she cradled it casually.

"I will use my quiet now" She curled her lips into a smile, no, I think it is a smirk.

***

I rolled my eyes, then walked back to my opened doors and closed doors. Just as I was about to continue reading, Dad flashed across my mind again and I was about to call him when the bell jingled and voilà, there he was, looking like a lost lamb in the forest. I quickly ran to him and held his hands " Dad are you okay, what's wrong?.." I was worried, even more worried because he said nothing, he did nothing. he just stood there, looking at me with dead eyes.

"Dad!" I shook him, which brought him out of his daze. He looked at my face and forced a smile, pulling me into a mean hug. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," was all he kept saying. I allowed the hug, and after a while, he broke it. He went to sit at the counter with unshed tears in his eyes.

"Dad, talk to me, what happened?" I sat beside him and looked into his eyes. He was quiet at first. he just stared deep into my eyes, from a thousand miles away, anyone could tell a hurricane was happening in his eyes.

"I was at your school.." He whispered so loudly. his voice was soft but the weight of his words killed me over and over.

"But..."

"I know," he cut me off, forcing a chuckle. "You told me not to come, but old habits die hard." I couldn't help but smile back.

After a while, he continued, "I am so sorry, baby." I wanted to cry too. I was hoping and silently praying it was not what I was thinking

"While waiting, I heard a few kids talking about the incident with some guy and how you were going to be their next target." he sighed deeply before he continued, "I approached them and asked for the details which they told me. I'm so sorry I couldn't provide you with a better life, nor could I protect you enough." His eyes changed suddenly, from pity to trust, faith, maybe hope, "But here's what I want you to know, you are not a mistake in this world. You are one of the best things that happened to The Crown, that happened to me. Never let anyone look down on you or intimidate you. If you feel you can't take it anymore, tell me and we'll change your school, okay!"

I sighed slowly and smiled "Dad I'm fine. Those guys can't touch me. You know why, it's because I'm your daughter". We looked at each other and laughed out loud.

Breaking out of that atmosphere, he asked, "Have you eaten yet darling?"

"Not yet, as soon as I'm hungry, I'll fix me something. Let me go and get changed and join you right back".

It was there I noticed that the beautiful stranger was listening to our conversation. She looked like she had something to say but kept it to herself. I walked past her as she was also leaving.

Her gaze lingered as I walked past like she wanted to say something but stopped herself. As she opened the door to leave, her voice drifted back to me, "Hang in there." It felt like a secret just for me, and I froze. What did she mean? I turned to watch her, catching her warm smile just before the door shut. And did she just wink?