Chapter 4: The Key That Waits
The key stayed in my pocket all day.
I couldn't stop touching it. Turning it over in my hand. Running my thumb across the little star etched at the top. It didn't feel like a regular key. It felt... patient. Like it was waiting for something. For me.
After leaving the bookstore yesterday, I didn't go straight home. I walked for hours, without meaning to, past closed cafés, half-lit windows, and quiet people who didn't look up. My feet felt heavier than usual. My heart too.
And Leo—he had given me the key so calmly. Like it was nothing. Like he wasn't quietly unraveling something inside me with every look, every half-smile.
I didn't even know him.
But I wanted to.
I thought about going back today. But I didn't. I told myself I needed space, time to think. So instead, I cleaned my small apartment. Watered my single stubborn plant. Sketched for a while. And finally opened the journal I bought at the shop.
I flipped through blank pages until I found the note again.
"The quiet ones hear the loudest truths."
I hadn't written that. Leo said he didn't either. So who had?
There was something else now, too—something I hadn't seen before.
A number. Tiny, written in the very bottom corner of the page in light pencil.
3:17
A time? A verse? A code?
I checked the clock. 2:41 PM.
Something in me whispered: Wait for it.
So I did.
At exactly 3:17, the lights in my apartment flickered. Just once. The kind of flicker you'd normally ignore.
But I didn't.
I opened the window. Looked outside.
Nothing strange. Just the sky softening into gold.
Then I looked at the key again.
I had no idea what it was unlocking, or why it had come to me. But deep down, I knew this wasn't just about a bookstore.
It was about Leo.
And something he wasn't saying.
That night, I had a dream.
I was standing in A Chapter More, but everything was upside down. The books floated. The shelves stretched into the sky. And Leo stood at the center, his hand over his chest, whispering something I couldn't hear.
I tried to reach him. But the floor shifted, and I fell—
I woke up breathless.
The key was on my pillow.
I knew I hadn't put it there.
The next day, I went back.
This time, I didn't hesitate. I pushed open the bookstore door, half-expecting the world to tilt again.
But it was normal. Warm. Quiet. That faint smell of old paper and something sweeter underneath—like honey and rain.
Leo wasn't behind the counter.
I stepped inside, letting the door close softly behind me. "Leo?"
No answer.
I walked past the front shelves, heart tapping faster with every step.
He was in the back, sitting on the floor beside a small pile of unshelved books, sketching in a notebook.
I froze. Watching him.
He hadn't heard me.
His expression was soft—peaceful in a way I hadn't seen before. Like he belonged there. Like this quiet corner of the world was the only place he ever felt whole.
And for some reason, it made my chest ache.
He looked up suddenly, eyes meeting mine. He didn't look surprised.
"You came," he said.
"I keep saying I won't," I replied, smiling a little. "But I do."
"Yeah," he said. "I know the feeling."
I sat across from him. "What are you drawing?"
He turned the sketchbook slightly so I could see.
It was me.
Sitting at the window of the shop. Looking down, a book open in my lap, a faint smile on my face. My hair tied up loosely, strands falling across my forehead. He'd caught the moment perfectly—soft, quiet, like he'd memorized it.
I couldn't breathe for a second.
"You drew this from memory?"
He shrugged. "I draw what stays with me."
I looked at him.
He looked away.
The air between us changed. Heavy in a different way. Like we both knew something was happening and neither of us knew how to say it.
I took the key out of my pocket and placed it between us.
He stared at it.
"It moved," I whispered. "In my apartment. Last night. I didn't touch it."
Leo didn't say anything.
"What is this, Leo?"
Still silence.
I leaned forward. "Tell me."
He finally looked at me.
"I didn't give you the key," he said quietly. "The store did."
I blinked. "What?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "I know how that sounds. But... the shop chooses. Who gets what. When to open the door. When to show what's been lost."
"You said there's a room."
"There is."
"Then take me."
He hesitated.
"I'm not afraid," I added.
He reached out and slowly picked up the key.
Then he stood and walked toward the back wall again. The same wall he touched last time.
I followed.
When he pressed the key into the air—yes, the air—something shimmered.
A seam appeared.
A door.
Real this time.
Leo stepped aside and looked at me. His face was unreadable.
"Only you can open it."
I stepped forward. My fingers closed around the key. I pushed it toward the keyhole that hadn't been there seconds ago.
It turned with a soft click.
And the door creaked open.
What I saw inside made me gasp.
Not because it was strange.
But because…
It was a room full of things from my past.
My old red sketchbook.
A bracelet I'd lost when I was thirteen.
A letter I never mailed.
I turned to Leo, stunned.
"What is this?"
But Leo was no longer beside me.
He was gone.