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The soft chime of her shop door barely pulled Amara's attention from the delicate stitching in her hand. She was used to customers coming and going, most of them polite, some impatient, all of them blending into the steady rhythm of her quiet life.
But the voice that called her name next shattered that rhythm.
"Amara?"
She looked up sharply, needle pausing midair.
Standing at the entrance, grinning like she had just walked into a surprise party, was Melody. She hadn't changed much—her curls were still wild and perfect, her energy still filling the room before she even properly stepped in.
"Melody?" Amara blinked, completely thrown off. "What—what are you doing here?"
"What, I can't visit my old friend?" Melody laughed and crossed the room in a few quick strides, wrapping Amara in a warm hug before she could protest.
Amara, stiff at first, slowly allowed herself to sink into the familiarity of it. "It's been… years."
"Seven, to be exact," Melody said, pulling back just enough to look at her. "You didn't think I'd disappear forever, did you?"
Amara shook her head, still too stunned to arrange her thoughts properly. "I didn't expect you. You didn't call."
"That was the point," Melody winked. "I wanted to see you just as you are. No time to hide behind work excuses."
Amara gave a soft laugh, her defenses slowly lowering. "Well, here I am. Still working. Still boring."
"Boring?" Melody's eyes danced with disbelief as she spun slowly, taking in the shop. "You've built this beautiful space, you've got your own business, and you still have that mysterious air about you that used to drive everyone crazy in school."
"That's just me being quiet, not mysterious."
"Call it what you want, I've always liked that about you."
They spent the next hour catching up. Melody told stories about living abroad, the people she'd met, the places she'd fallen in love with. Amara listened, genuinely enjoying the familiar lilt in her friend's voice, the way Melody made everything sound like an adventure.
But then, as expected, Melody's gaze sharpened. "So… do you still bury yourself in work all day?"
"It's not burying. It's focus."
"Focus, huh? And when was the last time you had fun?"
Amara shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really go out."
"Perfect," Melody said, clapping her hands once as if a decision had been made. "We're fixing that. There's this lounge I've been dying to check out. You're coming with me this weekend."
"I'm not really—"
"Not really into crowds, I know." Melody's tone softened, but she didn't back down. "But maybe it's time you let people see you outside of this shop. Just for one night."
Amara hesitated. Her usual excuses gathered on her tongue, but for some reason, none of them came out.
Maybe it was Melody's timing. Maybe it was the faint echo of her encounter with Lilian that still tugged at the back of her mind. Maybe, just maybe, she was a little tired of saying no to life.
"One night," Amara said carefully.
Melody's grin was immediate. "One night. I'll even help you get ready."
Amara raised a brow. "Why do I feel like you've already picked out my outfit?"
"Because I have."
They laughed, and for the first time in a long while, Amara didn't feel like she needed to rush back to her sewing or hide behind her carefully constructed walls. Melody's energy was infectious, her confidence a little overwhelming—but comforting too, like slipping into an old, familiar rhythm.
As they locked up the shop together, Amara felt the quiet thrill of something new stirring beneath her usual calm. It wasn't nerves exactly—more like curiosity.
She wondered, briefly, what it would feel like to simply exist in a room, not as the quiet seamstress, not as the girl who avoided the spotlight—but just as herself.
She hadn't felt that in a long time.
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