Bitter Heart √

Forty Seven

Skylar's POV

I pushed open the glass doors and stepped inside the incredibly small shop. A bit suffocating too. The moment I entered, I heard a bell chime above me, announcing my arrival at the empty shop.

It was a typical antique store, and verything in here seemed to have something consisting of glass pieces; mirrors. Real mirrors, glass pieces carved into giant vases, wind chimes made out of mirror shards.

The shopkeeper must be really into mirrors.

I hadn't intended to come out here alone, even before Dad had made it clear that I shouldn't. But at the same time, I couldn't find it in myself to ask someone to tag along. I could've asked Caden.

But I hadn't.

"Hello, young lady. May I help you?" I heard a voice right behind me.

As if broken out from a serious trance, I turned around to see an old man--who looked not so old--with a trimmed white beard and a bald head.

"Oh, I heard you were good at making wooden puzzle boxes?" I started, clearing my throat.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I do make them, yes. What kind of boxes do you want?" He asked, walking behind the counter.

I slid off my handbag from my shoulder and gingerly took out the wooden box. Making sure he could see it and not exactly reach for it, I showed it to him.

"I don't need any boxes. I just thought you might be kind enough to help me open this?" I asked hopefully. I needed to know what was inside it, at any cost.

He eyed the box curiously before looking up at me. Something in his gaze didn't feel so right.

"If you can't--" I took a small step back. "--that's not a problem at all. I can take this to someone else."

He exhaled a sigh before shaking his head. "It's not that. I do not remember ever making such kind of boxes." He murmured. "But my brother used to sell them at his shop."

Maybe that's where this was bought from.

"So, you might be able to open it?" I asked him.

His hand reached out towards me, asking for the box. I hesitated a little before giving it to him.

He took it and turned it around in his hands, inspecting it very closely. His forehead furrowed in concentration and it took him almost a few seconds before he pressed something at the bottom. Surprisingly, I saw the locks working before the front of the box opened itself.

The old man looked at me, a slight hint of pride in his eyes. I wouldn't blame the guy.

"Oh, thank you so much," I spoke up in surprise. "I had no idea it was that easy."

As I made a move to take it from him, he held it back.

"It isn't. It takes the critical stage of mind to know where it opens and where it locks." He said, once again narrowing his gaze at me.

"Yeah," I said, and the polite smile on my face seemed to waver a bit. "Like I said, thank you. Can I have it back?"

"Tell me where you found this."

I blinked in surprise, curling my hands around the strap of my bag. Nothing about this small shop felt so fine anymore.

"I-I don't know." I hesitated. "Please, can I have it back?"

He did give it to me this time. An involuntary sigh escaped my lips as I held it. Mom had been crystal clear when she told me that I was to take care of this box. I didn't want to lose it in the hands of some creepy old shopkeeper.