Seat 10 A

Chapter 7: The Art of Rebuilding

Claire sat by the window of her hotel room, the faint hum of the city filtering through the glass. Her journal lay open on the small table before her, its pages filled with fragmented thoughts. Her pen hovered over the paper, hesitating before pressing down.

Trust is a fragile thing.

She stared at the words, the weight of them settling over her. The day before had felt like a step forward, but it also left her feeling exposed. Claire had spent so much time building walls, convincing herself that vulnerability was a risk she couldn't afford. And yet, here she was, contemplating tearing those walls down for someone who had once been the reason she built them in the first place.

The soft vibration of her phone pulled her from her thoughts. She reached for it, glancing at the screen to see Ethan's name.

Ethan: Morning. Thought you'd like this.

Attached was a photo of a small bookshop—not the one they had visited, but another with a charming, weathered facade. The image stirred something in Claire, a reminder of the quiet joy she found in places like that.

Claire: It's lovely. Did you go in?

His response was quick.

Ethan: Not yet. Thought I'd wait and see if you wanted to join me.

A faint smile tugged at her lips. She set the phone down, her gaze drifting back to her journal. After a moment of thought, she wrote:

Maybe trust isn't about certainty. Maybe it's about choosing to believe, even when it feels risky.

She closed the journal, her decision made. Picking up her phone, she typed her reply.

Claire: Meet me there in 30?

The bookshop was even more charming in person. Its windows were cluttered with stacks of books, their spines worn and colorful. A faded sign above the door read La Maison des Livres, and a small chalkboard by the entrance proclaimed, "Stories for every soul."

Ethan was waiting outside, his hands in his pockets. When he saw Claire, his face lit up with an easy smile. "Right on time," he said. "I'm impressed."

"I could say the same," Claire quipped, her tone light as she stepped beside him. "Shall we?"

They entered the shop, the smell of old paper and ink wrapping around them like a warm embrace. The interior was cozy, its shelves packed to the brim with books in both French and English. A cat dozed on the counter, its tail twitching lazily as Claire and Ethan began to browse.

Claire found herself drawn to a section labeled "Travel & Exploration." She picked up a book filled with vivid photographs of landscapes from around the world, flipping through its pages with quiet admiration.

"Find anything good?" Ethan's voice came from behind her, soft and unintrusive.

She held up the book, its cover a striking image of a mountain range. "Just daydreaming," she said. "There's something about photos like these. They make you feel like you're standing right there, breathing the air, hearing the sounds."

"That's what I love about photography," Ethan said, his gaze shifting to the book in her hands. "It's a way to capture not just a place, but a feeling."

Claire looked at him, her expression softening. "You've always been good at that. Even when we were younger, your photos had this way of telling stories without words."