The soft chime above the door suddenly rang, pulling Nahia from her reading. The book on babies lay open before her, her fingers resting on a page illustrated with a smiling infant. She lifted her head, intrigued.
A man had just entered. Tall, dark-haired, elegant in his dark coat. She recognized him immediately: it was him. The one who, a few days earlier, had come to buy a music box for his daughter's birthday.
— "Good afternoon," he greeted with a sincere smile.
— "Good afternoon," she replied, gentle but a little reserved.
She closed the book and set it behind the counter.
— "So… Did your daughter like the gift?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
— "She loved it. The box, the music… But most of all, the little note inside."
Nahia raised her brows, surprised.
— "The note?" she repeated.
— "Yes. Her nanny helped her open the package, and when she found the card, she wanted us to read it aloud. There was a small note… very tender. She was so happy. I was surprised… because I hadn't written anything. That's when I realized it could only have come from one person: the one who sold it to me."
He looked at her, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
— "It was you, wasn't it?"
A faint smile curved Nahia's lips. She lowered her gaze for a moment before replying:
— "I'm glad I could make a little girl happy on her birthday."
— "Her name is Malia," he said softly, as if it were a precious secret. "And I'm Anthony."
— "Nahia," she simply replied.
They exchanged a look, suspended in the hushed silence of the shop.
— "I'd like to invite you to lunch, to thank you," Anthony said suddenly.
— "That's not necessary. And besides, I don't have time."
— "Alright… Then dinner?" he offered with a half-smile.
— "I won't be able to. I have things to do in the evening."
— "When will you be free then?"
— "I don't know yet."
Anthony chuckled lightly, not discouraged at all.
— "Very well. Then I'll come every day after work to ask you for dinner… until you say yes."
This time, an amused smile escaped Nahia's lips. He nodded goodbye, then left, the chime echoing once again in the quiet shop.
Moments later, Giulietta, feather duster in hand, emerged from behind a shelf. She had discreetly observed the scene, pretending to dust porcelain trinkets.
— "Who was that?" she asked, approaching the counter.
— "Nobody. Just a customer," Nahia answered, a little too quickly.
— "Just a customer, huh? I heard your whole conversation. Why didn't you accept his invitation?"
— "I can't. That's all. I want to focus on what's essential."
Her aunt crossed her arms, unsatisfied.
— "He just wants to thank you, nothing more. And it would do you good to go out a little. Get some air, think of something else. It's good for you. Especially in your condition."
But Nahia turned away and murmured firmly:
— "No, Giulietta. It's no."
Her tone left no room for discussion. The old woman sighed, shook her head, and returned to her chores, leaving Nahia to dive back into her thoughts… and into the silence.
---
The next evening
The sun was setting slowly, tinting the shop windows with an orange glow. Inside the store, calm reigned as always at the end of the day. Nahia allowed herself a moment of respite behind the counter, a cup of still-warm herbal tea in her hands. Giulietta had withdrawn to the back to take her medicine.
The chime rang again.
She looked up. Anthony.
Still in his dark coat, his hair tousled slightly by the evening wind. A smile spread across his lips as soon as he saw her.
— "Good evening, Nahia."
She frowned, feigning severity.
— "You came back."
— "As promised. I told you I'd return every day until you agree to have dinner with me."
She shook her head, amused despite herself.
— "You're persistent."
— "I call it perseverance," he replied with a mischievous look.
He walked slowly toward the counter, hands in his pockets.
— "So? Perhaps tonight?"
— "Not tonight either," she replied gently but firmly.
Anthony regarded her for a moment, then nodded slowly.
— "Alright. But at least, accept this."
He pulled a small kraft bag from his coat pocket and placed it on the counter. She stared at it, hesitant.
— "What is it?"
— "Homemade cookies. Malia made them with her nanny. She insisted that I bring you some."
Nahia took the package in her hands. It was still warm. A sweet aroma wafted out.
— "She asked me if I'd seen you again," he added. "She called you 'the lady with the magic gift.'"
A smile brushed Nahia's lips.
— "She sounds adorable."
— "She is. And she would love to meet you."
Anthony said nothing more. He stepped back.
— "I won't insist for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow."
He turned, then added with a smile over his shoulder:
— "Unless you surprise me by saying yes before then."
The chime rang again as he left, leaving behind a silent shop… and a troubled Nahia.
She stood still for a moment, the cookies in her hands, her heart strangely unsettled.
— "'The lady with the magic gift,'" she murmured, looking at the package. Then, as if to chase away a thought too sweet, she quickly set it down behind her.
---
That evening, in the living room
Dinner finished, Nahia returned to the living room with a small white plate on which she had placed the cookies. She set two in front of Giulietta, then approached the sofa where Amaya sat, legs crossed, a light blanket over her knees.
— "Here, try one," Nahia said simply, offering the plate.
— "Thanks," Amaya replied, surprised. With the first bite, her brows arched, pleasantly astonished. "But… these are so good. Where did you get them? You didn't make them, did you?"
— "No," Nahia replied, avoiding her gaze.
Giulietta, seated at the other end of the room with her tea, lifted her eyes with a sly smile.
— "You really don't want to tell her?" she whispered to Nahia.
— "Tell me what?" asked Amaya.
Giulietta rested her elbows on the table, ready to spill the story.
— "A man came by the shop last week. He was looking for a music box for his daughter's birthday. And Nahia, without saying anything, slipped a little note inside. A simple, touching phrase. When the girl read it, she was overjoyed. And her father, surprised, realized it could only have come from one person…"
Amaya stared at her sister.
— "You did that? And he came back?"
— "Yes. He asked me to lunch, then to dinner. I refused."
— "Why?"
— "Because I don't have time. And I don't want to."
Giulietta gently set her knitting on her lap, both compassionate and stubborn.
— "It's not a matter of time, Nahia. You're choosing not to make it."
Nahia rose, went to the window without replying. Outside, the streetlamps cast their golden light on the sleeping street. She looked far away, her gaze lost in distant thoughts.
Amaya bit into a second cookie.
— "Honestly, this guy seems decent, Nahia. He comes back, he doesn't pressure you, he even brings you cookies made by his daughter… What are you waiting for?"
— "For her to stop being afraid," Giulietta murmured.
Nahia spun around sharply.
— "It's not fear. It's… realism. There are more important things right now. I don't want to get attached. Not now."
— "You're already attached, my dear," her aunt replied softly. "It's not a reproach. It's human."
Silence fell again, this time filled with both tenderness and tension.
Amaya watched her sister, her eyes suddenly full of warmth.
— "You know… you still have the right to be happy. Even if times are complicated. Even if everything isn't perfect. We don't need to wait for life to calm down before reaching out to someone."
Nahia lowered her eyes, stirring the forgotten tea in her hands.
Then, in an almost imperceptible breath:
— "That little note I slipped… I wrote it without thinking. It was just… a whim. I imagined a little girl opening her gift, alone, or nearly so. I wanted her to feel loved, expected. Maybe because… I would have liked to read something like that, once."
Giulietta rose, slowly crossed the room, and laid her hand on her niece's shoulder.
— "You bring softness into the world, Nahia. Let the world offer you some in return."
A tender silence settled.
Amaya gently broke it, playful:
— "Well… if you really don't want him, I could always give him my number?"
Laughter burst in the living room, breaking the tension at once.
Nahia rolled her eyes, amused despite herself.
— "You're incorrigible."
— "But charming," Amaya replied, biting into a third cookie. "Honestly… you should at least thank him in person. Tomorrow. Just to return the bag."
Nahia didn't answer. But that night, when she went to bed, the bag of cookies still sat on her bedside table.
And her heart was a little lighter than usual.