POV: Lily Navarro

By the time the sun dipped behind the Berlin skyline, Lily’s entire body ached.

Not in a dramatic, falling-apart way—but in the quiet, tired kind of way that comes after trying to stay composed for too long. She’d survived her first day at Kleinwelt Studio. Survived the new faces, the forced smiles, the surprise rice commentary, and the looming presence of Matteo Schäfer across her desk.

Now she was finally headed to what would be home—for the next few months, at least.

The apartment was on the third floor of a building that looked like it belonged in a postcard: aged brick, ivy curling around iron balconies, and wooden doors with peeling paint that somehow made it feel more alive than anything modern ever could.

Julian had helped arrange it. Said it was near the studio. "Quiet, but charming," he’d written. "I think it’ll suit you."

The stairs creaked under her steps. The key clicked in the lock. And when she opened the door, the first thing she noticed was the way the light streamed in through the tall windows.

Golden. Dusty. Soft.

The walls were bare. The furniture was minimal—a couch, a desk, a small bed tucked into a corner. But there was a shelf by the window, and a little balcony with just enough space for a chair.

She stood in the middle of the room, suitcase beside her, and let out a slow breath.

She made it.

She was here. Really here.

For a second, she didn’t move. Just closed her eyes and listened to the silence.

Then she unpacked.

She placed her sketchbooks on the desk. Her colored pens and washi tape in the top drawer. Her toothbrush in the glass on the bathroom sink. Her mother’s ring stayed on her finger, but she placed a framed photo of her parents beside her bed—a photo taken in the hospital cafeteria, both in scrubs, laughing like teenagers.

Her eyes watered, but she didn’t cry.

Instead, she changed into a new sweater, tied her hair into a loose ponytail, and stepped out into the early evening air.

The streets near her apartment were cobbled and narrow, lined with vintage shops, cafés, and bookstores that looked like they belonged in a Studio Ghibli film. The air smelled like cinnamon and roasted chestnuts, and the sky above glowed with streaks of pastel orange and lavender.

She walked slowly, letting herself drift.

She passed a tiny café with fairy lights in the window and tables draped with mismatched tablecloths. A chalkboard out front read:
“Kaffee. Kuchen. Geschichten.”
(Coffee. Cake. Stories.)

She didn’t go in—just smiled at the name and made a mental note to return when she wasn’t so tired.

A few steps later, she found a bookstore.

It was tucked between a florist and a secondhand record shop, its windows fogged from the warmth inside. The bell above the door jingled as she entered.

Books.

Everywhere.

Stacked on tables, crammed into shelves, spilling over the counters. A soft classical piece played in the background, and an old man behind the desk looked up and nodded at her without a word.

She wandered in a daze.

She didn’t recognize most of the titles—they were all in German—but she ran her fingers along the spines anyway, comforted by the familiar smell of pages and ink. She found a small corner with English books and crouched there, flipping through a collection of short stories.

She didn’t buy anything.

She just sat for a while. Breathing.

And when she finally stepped back outside, the world didn’t feel so unfamiliar anymore.

Back at her apartment, Lily made tea in the tiny kitchen. She curled up in the window chair with her sketchbook and started to draw the café’s fairy lights from memory.

Her phone buzzed on the desk.

Petsa de Peligro Crew 💸🍜

Lavenia: “How’s your first sunset in Berlin?”
Mae: “Send pics or we riot.”
Jona: “Do you have snow yet? Have you seen a German dog?”

Lily laughed softly and snapped a photo of the view from her window—the golden light, the rooftops, her sketchbook on her lap.

Lily: “It’s not home. But it’s beautiful.”

Mae: “That sounds like the title of your future poetry book 😭”
Lavenia: “Or your breakup song. You okay?”
Lily: “I think… I will be.”

She smiled to herself, then reached for her pencil again.

Across the city, Matteo Schäfer sat alone in his apartment, sketching in silence. A cup of black coffee untouched beside him. A soft note of piano music humming from his speakers.

He didn’t know why he kept seeing her face when he closed his eyes.
He didn’t know why he remembered the way she looked in the breakroom—like she was somewhere far away.

And he didn’t know why it mattered.

Not yet.