Silver Lining ❥ daerin

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖: 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝚂̷𝚊̷𝚐̷𝚎̷

The sun was already high in the sky by the time I grabbed my keys and left the house. My parents were both at work, and they'd asked me to pick up a few things for dinner on my way back. The market wasn't far, just a short walk down the road, and it was one of those rare warm, breezy days in the city that made everything feel a little lighter. I made a mental list of everything I needed—eggs, vegetables, some meat for the evening, and then maybe I'd swing by the furniture store I'd seen on my way here.

My footsteps fell in sync with the rhythm of the city around me. People passed by, bustling about their day, and I found myself watching them. Couples, kids with their parents, elderly folks moving at their own pace. It made me feel like I was truly a part of this neighbourhood now, even though we'd only moved in recently. The thought of Calista flashed through my mind again, like a stray breeze. I shook my head, trying not to dwell on it.

Focus, Sage. Groceries first, furniture next.

The market was packed, the usual weekend crowd filling up the aisles, but I managed to find everything I needed pretty quickly. Eggs, a variety of fresh vegetables, and some marinated chicken that would go great with rice for tonight. I loaded up my basket, trying to avoid eye contact with any overly friendly vendors. I wasn't in the mood for small talk. The cashier greeted me with a smile, and I returned it, albeit a little shyly. In moments like these, I felt the weight of my introversion more than ever.

After I had packed everything up, I glanced across the street. There it was, the small, unassuming furniture store I had noticed a few days ago. A bell jingled as I walked in, and the scent of polished wood greeted me. The store had a quiet charm to it, and it wasn't one of those modern, sleek places. It felt homey. I spent a while browsing through the different pieces of furniture. I'd been meaning to add something new to my room—just a small upgrade to make it feel more like mine.

I ran my fingers over the edge of a simple wooden desk that immediately caught my attention. The craftsmanship was smooth, the surface sturdy. Something about its modest, natural design appealed to me. I'd always liked things that felt timeless, pieces that had a story, and this desk felt like it belonged in my space. Without hesitation, I asked the storekeeper to wrap it up for me. They arranged for it to be delivered later that afternoon, and with that settled, I made my way back home.

The drive back was quieter, my mind busy with thoughts of assembling the new desk, making sure I had the right tools, and mentally picturing where it would fit in my room. My gaze occasionally flicked over to Calista's house, wondering if her car was parked in the driveway. It wasn't. She must have a lot of plans. I shook off the thought and focused on the tasks ahead.

Once I got inside, I unloaded the groceries, neatly tucking everything away in the fridge and pantry. As I placed the last carton of eggs on the counter, I glanced out the kitchen window toward Calista's house again. Still no sign of her. My chest tightened for a second. I didn't even know why I cared. We'd only exchanged a few conversations and returned each other's belongings, but there was something about her—a magnetic pull that I couldn't quite ignore.

Snap out of it, Sage. Focus.

I busied myself unpacking the furniture. The delivery guy had dropped off the pieces just as I finished with the groceries, and now the parts lay scattered in my room, waiting to be assembled. I grabbed my toolbox and settled onto the floor, laying out each piece carefully.

As I worked, the rhythmic click of screws and the soft clatter of wood on the floor filled the room. My mind wandered as I assembled the legs and fitted them into place. I thought about how different everything felt since we'd moved here. There was this strange sense of newness in every corner, like the possibilities were endless. But at the same time, there was a feeling of uncertainty, like I was still trying to find my footing.