The Heart's Quite Beginning

Chapter 15: The Smallest Things

The night had finally fallen, casting a soft, sleepy glow over the book cafe. The last of the villagers had filed out, their festival plans tucked under their arms and good-natured bickering echoing in the air. As the door clicked shut behind the final straggler, a wave of relief washed over me. The silence that followed was blissful, even with the faint hum of activity left behind.

"Well, that was... something," Nova said, dramatically flopping into a chair, her arm sweeping across her brow as if she had just run a marathon. The mischievous twinkle in her eye told me she was anything but exhausted.

Iris, ever calm and composed, shook her head with a soft chuckle as she picked up a stray napkin from the counter. "You act like you did the heavy lifting, Nova. I'm pretty sure I saw you supervising from the sidelines half the time."

"I was inspiring people, Iris. There's an art to that," Nova shot back, her grin wide. "Besides, someone has to maintain morale!"

Ethan, who was wiping down the counter beside me, shot Nova a playful look. "I think you mean distracting everyone. How many times did you almost knock over the pumpkin display?"

Nova gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest. "Excuse you! That was an artistic near-miss, thank you very much. Adds suspense to the festival vibe."

I couldn't help but laugh at their back-and-forth. The lightness of it, the ease in how they all interacted, filled the space with warmth. After the chaos of the day, this felt like exactly what we needed—a little bit of normalcy.

As the last of the cleanup was done, Nova stretched out her arms and announced, "Alright, I'm starving. Can we please, for the love of all things holy, order food before I waste away into nothingness?"

Iris rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement. "You ate two donuts earlier. I don't think you're quite at risk of wasting away."

Nova gasped in mock outrage. "That was hours ago, Iris! I'm practically a skeleton here! So, what are we getting?"

The question hung in the air as we all plopped down into chairs around the cafe's largest table. There was something wonderful about this moment—the four of us sitting together, the night still around us, as if the whole world had paused just for us to share a meal.

"I'm good with anything," Iris said, leaning back and scrolling through her phone lazily, clearly too tired to make any decisions.

"I'm feeling pizza," Nova suggested, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Or... sushi. Maybe both?"

"Sushi and pizza?" Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That's... a combination."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Nova shot back, pointing a finger at him, her face dead serious.

I wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, though. Not really. I found myself watching Ethan out of the corner of my eye, noticing the way he shifted his chair closer to mine, subtly, like it was nothing. But suddenly, the space between us felt almost nonexistent. It was a small thing, a tiny gesture, but my heart reacted like he'd pulled some grand romantic move. Why did he have to be so... casually?

He caught me looking and smiled—a quiet, knowing smile that sent a tiny thrill through me. I quickly looked away, pretending to be very interested in the napkin I was fiddling with.

"What about you, Lia?" Ethan asked, his voice cutting through the easy chatter around us. His eyes were warm as they settled on me, and I couldn't help but feel the tiniest flutter in my chest.

"Oh, um... I'm good with whatever," I said, waving a hand dismissively. Letting them decide felt easier. I didn't want to make it about me.

But Ethan frowned, not letting me off the hook so easily. "Come on. You've got to have a preference. What do you feel like eating?"

I hesitated, feeling all their eyes on me now. Nova was smirking, Iris watching curiously, and Ethan just... waiting. The tiniest bit of pressure built inside me, like my food choice would somehow define me in this moment. Which was ridiculous, but that's what happens when you overthink everything.

"Okay, okay. Indian food. I could go for that," I finally admitted, and the moment the words left my mouth, I realized just how much I actually wanted it. Something spicy, warm, comforting.

Ethan's smile widened, and he nodded. "Indian food it is."

Nova groaned dramatically, though I could tell she didn't actually mind. "Ugh, fine. I guess I'll have to put my sushi dreams on hold for the sake of samosas."

Iris was already pulling up a delivery app on her phone. "I could go for some butter chicken."

"Chana masala for me," Nova said, her tone chipper again now that food was officially on the way.

Ethan glanced at me as the order was being placed. "What about you?"

"Paneer tikka," I said, almost without thinking, and he smiled like he knew it was my favorite.

As Iris placed the order, the conversation flowed easily around me. Nova started debating the merits of different sauces, while Ethan made a case for naan over rice. I leaned back in my chair, soaking it all in—their laughter, the playful banter, the sense of belonging that wrapped around me like a cozy blanket. I felt safe here, more than I had in a long time.

I couldn't help but steal glances at Ethan, his easy smile lighting up the room, making everything feel brighter. There was a spark between us, something electric that made my heart race, but I was terrified of what it meant. What if I read too much into it? What if it was just friendly gesture?

Just as I was spiraling into my thoughts, Nova broke in, her voice bright. "So, who's going to be the brave one and try to eat the most samosas?"

"Not it!" I said quickly, raising my hand, and the others followed suit, laughing.

Ethan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I might just take you up on that challenge. I do have a reputation to uphold."

My stomach did a little flip at his teasing tone. "Oh really? Is that so?"

He nodded, a playful glint in his eyes. "Absolutely. Just wait until you see my samosa-eating strategy."

"Your strategy?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Please, enlighten me."

Ethan leaned back, putting on an exaggerated thinking face. "First, you've got to set the mood. Samosas deserve ambiance. Then, you have to create the perfect dipping sauce ratio. It's all about balance."

I shook my head, chuckling. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously serious about my samosas," he shot back, and the banter flowed effortlessly. In that moment, I felt a little spark of hope. Maybe I could lean into this. Maybe I didn't have to overthink every single interaction.

As we waited for our food, I realized that maybe this wasn't just chaos. Maybe this was exactly where I was meant to be—surrounded by friends who felt like family, sharing laughter and food and dreams, however silly they might be. And as Ethan leaned in closer, sharing his very serious samosa strategy, I found myself wishing that this night could stretch on forever.