Morning light spilled across forgotten textbooks and the echo of late-night laughter—one more quiet day in a story neither of them knew they were writing.
The alarm had gone off twice before Jane finally dragged herself out of bed, hair tousled and eyes still adjusting.
Mia, already dressed in high-waisted jeans and a hoodie that read Sarcasm is my love language, was leaning against the wall near the window, sipping from a mug of instant coffee like it held the secrets of the universe.
"No lectures today," she said with a grin, nudging Jane with her foot. "Which means the world is ours until the cafe claims you again."
Jane groaned, stretching. "Remind me why we don't sleep in like normal students?"
"Because you're the responsible one," Mia said, tossing her an apple. "And I'm the bad influence who drags you out anyway."
By the time they stepped outside, the air was crisp but sunny—perfect for walking.
They didn't really have a destination in mind. Jane wore a loose cardigan over her shirt and jeans, her shoulder bag bouncing lightly as they walked down the sidewalk.
They passed by an open-air flower shop, the scent of fresh roses and eucalyptus lingering in the air.
Mia paused to smell a white daisy, grinning when it made Jane sneeze.
They bought small iced drinks from a street vendor and wandered past small art stores and thrift stalls, letting their conversation meander just like their steps.
"You know," Mia said between sips, "this is suspiciously peaceful. I feel like something dramatic should happen. Like running into your fancy doctor lady again."
Jane nearly choked on her drink. "Oh my god, Mia."
"What? I'm just saying." Mia smirked, nudging her shoulder. "What if she shows up again in her glowing aura and luxury car, sweeping you off your feet in the middle of the street?"
"She's not glowing," Jane muttered, though her cheeks were already turning pink.
"No, but you are now."
"I'm just… surprised she even remembered me, that's all," Jane added quickly.
Mia grinned, "Well, she did more than just remember. She drove you home. That's like ten points above casual acquaintance."
"She was just being kind," Jane said, though the memory warmed her anyway—the cool hum of the car, Sophia's sharp words layered with concern.
Mia looked at her sideways. "You get soft when you talk about her."
Jane glanced at the street ahead, smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Jane hesitated, her fingers tightening around her drink. Different, yes. Like something sharp and soft at once—too easy to fall into, too hard to forget. "She's different, that's all."
They walked in silence for a moment, their sneakers thudding lightly on the pavement. Birds flitted across a nearby fence, and the sky was the kind of blue that made you believe in simple joys.
Finally, Mia said, "I like this version of your morning. Calm. Happy. Weirdly hopeful."
Jane looked down at her drink, then at the sidewalk stretching ahead of them. "Me too."
They turned off the main road and wandered into a quieter street lined with vintage lamp posts and colorful hanging signs. The kind of street most people overlooked, but Jane had always loved for its hidden charm.
"Oh, look," Mia pointed across the street, "it's that tiny bookstore you like. The one that smells like cinnamon and dust."
"The owner burns cinnamon candles. Says it helps customers buy more," Jane said with a grin.
"Well, it works. Let's go in—I want to find something romantic and tragic."
The small brass bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside.
Warm lighting filtered through old curtains, brushing the shelves like a sepia photograph.
Books were stacked high—some on wobbly tables, others on the floor in neat towers. The air carried the soft scent of aged paper and spiced wax.
Jane drifted naturally toward the classics while Mia bee-lined for the fantasy and manga section.
"Hey, this one's about a pirate who falls in love with a sea witch," Mia called from behind a tall stack, already flipping through the pages.
Jane chuckled. "Sounds like your type."
"You know it."
She ran her fingers over the worn spines of books she'd already read twice.
There was comfort in this place, in the silence that wasn't really silent—the creak of old wood, the soft murmur of pages turning, the quiet joy of discovery.
"Found anything tragic yet?" Jane asked, her voice hushed out of habit.
Mia peeked around a shelf, holding up a book with a dramatic cover. "This one ends with someone being turned into a constellation."
"That's kind of poetic," Jane said.
"It's heartbreaking," Mia corrected, but her grin said she loved every bit of it.
They sat down on the old couch near the back of the store, flipping through their chosen books, sharing bits aloud—Mia dramatically reading lines with flair, Jane laughing so hard she snorted once.
They didn't buy anything this time—money was tight and the afternoon shift loomed—but they left a little lighter, a little more grounded.
Outside, the day had grown warmer, and Jane checked her phone. "I should probably start heading to the café soon."
"I'll walk you there," Mia offered. "Gotta make sure Doctor Fancy Car doesn't pick you up again. I might get jealous."
Jane rolled her eyes, but smiled. "You're impossible."
Mia winked. "That's why you love me."