Chapter 3: Aisle Three

The rain hadn’t stopped.

It had changed — no longer pouring with urgency, but drifting softly, like a melody the sky was humming to itself.

Kai stepped inside the bookstore again, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the wooden floor. The warmth of the shop touched his skin like a memory — quiet, familiar, and safe. He hesitated near the door, brushing the damp sleeves of his hoodie as the door jingled shut behind him.

Yuna looked up from the counter, one earphone hanging loosely from her ear. Her eyes met his, briefly, and her lips curved into a small smile.

 “Back so soon?” she asked.

Her voice was light — like it didn’t mind the surprise.

Kai scratched the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected her to be here again. Somehow, part of him had hoped she would be.

“You said aisle three was good for rainy days,” he replied.

Yuna’s smile deepened. “Still is.”

He walked past the counter slowly, letting his fingers trail over the spines of books he didn’t plan to read. The shop smelled faintly of paper and old wood, and somewhere in the background, a soft jazz tune hummed from the stereo.

When he reached aisle three, he paused near the window. Drops clung to the glass like tiny beads of light, and the outside world blurred behind them. He crouched down, picking up a thin poetry book — the kind he usually ignored — and flipped it open.

The pages were soft at the edges. Some had tiny pencil markings — faint underlines, quiet exclamations from a past reader.

 “You ever read these?” he called softly over the shelf.

There was a pause, then her voice replied — still calm, still near.

 “All the time. They’re like quiet thoughts someone dared to write down.”

That sentence stayed with him longer than it should’ve. Quiet thoughts someone dared to write down. That was exactly what it felt like.

Kai read a few lines.

Then he read them aloud — without meaning to.

 “She walks between the rain and silence,

As if both are her shadow…”

His voice felt strange in the quiet. Too full, too exposed. He shut the book immediately, a little embarrassed.

Yuna appeared at the end of the aisle, one hand still holding a hardcover.

Her expression was softer than before — not teasing, not amused. Just still.

“You read that like you meant it.”

Kai looked down at the book, then back at her.

“Maybe I did.”

There was a moment. Neither of them moved. Somewhere between the shelves, the rain tapped gently against the windows like fingers drumming a slow rhythm.

“What’s your favorite line?” he asked suddenly.

Yuna blinked. “From poetry?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t think long.

“‘Lonely people sometimes carry the heaviest silence.’”

Kai nodded slowly. “That… feels true.”

Another moment passed, and this time, it wasn’t silent in the uncomfortable way — it was peaceful, like the world had paused just for them.

Outside, the rain kept falling. Softer. Quieter.

---

Kai didn’t buy the book that day. Again.

But he stayed longer than he did before.

And when he left, he didn’t glance back through the glass.

He didn’t need to.

Because this time, Yuna was the one watching him go.

---

Author’s Note:

Every story begins with a moment that feels too small to matter — until it does.

Kai and Yuna are beginning to hear each other’s silence. And that’s something rare.

if this chapter made your heart pause even for a second, leave a like or comment. It means more than you know 

See you in Chapter 4.

— Arthur