The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the cobbled streets as Elara arranged the books in her small corner bookstore. The bell above the door chimed softly each time a customer walked in, a familiar comfort. But since that day in the grocery aisle, nothing had felt quite the same.
Every moment since then had been a strange tug-of-war in her chest. Seeing Rowan again had awakened something Elara thought she'd erased—something the enchanted pen had supposedly buried deep enough never to rise. And yet, her dreams had shifted. Her hand still tingled as if it remembered Rowan's touch. That morning, she'd caught herself reaching for a book she'd once recommended to Rowan, heart twisting in confusion.
The pen sat tucked away in her journal drawer, silent but ever-present. It hadn't written on its own since the day Rowan reappeared. But Elara knew better than to trust silence. Magic had a way of holding its breath right before it changed everything.
She was wiping the front counter when the doorbell chimed again. Her stomach tightened. And then she heard the voice.
"I hope this isn't too forward... but I was hoping you'd be here."
Elara turned.
Rowan.
Today, she wore a navy-blue sweater that set her auburn hair ablaze in the afternoon light. There was hesitation in her stance, like a dancer poised but uncertain of the next step. And in her eyes, those storm-gray eyes—there was something that looked dangerously like recognition.
Elara tried to smile. It wavered. "Back for another recommendation?"
Rowan chuckled softly. "Maybe. But also... maybe I just wanted to see you again."
The words hung in the air between them, delicate and loaded. Elara gestured to the reading nook by the window. "Well, lucky for you, we have space for lingering."
They sat together, the shop quiet except for the occasional flip of pages and the rustle of wind outside. Rowan had picked up a worn copy of a poetry collection. She thumbed through it absently.
"This place feels... safe," she said. "I don't know why. But it does."
Elara swallowed. "It tends to have that effect."
Rowan looked up. "Do you ever feel like you've known someone before you've actually met them?"
Elara froze.
"Sometimes," she said softly. "Sometimes it's more than a feeling. It's like a memory you can't place."
They looked at each other for a moment too long. Then Rowan smiled. It was small and uncertain, but it cracked something open in Elara a memory, a warmth.
"I used to come to places like this with someone," Rowan said suddenly. "I don't know who. I just... remember laughter. Candles. The smell of old pages. It's silly, right?"
Elara shook her head. "Not silly at all."
They lapsed into silence again, but it was gentler this time. Companionable.
As the sun dipped lower, Rowan stood. "Thank you. For letting me sit. For not thinking I'm strange."
"You're not strange," Elara said, her voice quiet. "You're... welcome. Anytime."
Rowan hesitated at the door. "I feel like we used to know each other. I know that doesn't make sense, but... I do."
Elara's heart thudded. She managed a nod. "Maybe we did. In another life."
Rowan smiled. "Then maybe in this one, we can start again."
With a soft chime, she left.
Elara stood frozen for a long moment, fingers resting on the edge of the counter. Behind her, in the drawer, the journal rustled.
When she opened it, the enchanted pen had written just one line:
"You can't erase what was written in the heart."
Elara stared at the words, her breath catching.
For the first time since the spell, she didn't want to rewrite anything. She wanted to remember.