Chapter 14: More Than I Should

The air inside the bookstore smelled like old paper and fresh coffee—comforting, familiar, yet slightly overwhelming in its quiet stillness. Ren wandered between the narrow aisles, his fingers trailing lightly over the spines of books. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just... something to distract him.

He had started coming here more often since everything stabilized. The slow hum of life returning to normal felt strange—like wearing a borrowed jacket that didn’t quite fit. No more glitches, no rewinds, no timelines collapsing in on themselves. Time marched forward, indifferent to Ren’s memories.

And Ren had no choice but to move with it.

He paused at a table stacked with secondhand paperbacks, picking up a dog-eared novel without reading the title. It wasn’t that he cared about the plot—he just needed something to keep his hands busy, something that felt tangible in a world that had slipped out of his control too many times before.

Ren sighed, setting the book down. It didn’t help. Nothing really did. He could feel the weight of all those unwritten moments pressing against him—the things he could have done differently if he still had the power to rewind. Conversations left unsaid. Mistakes he could never unmake.

But that was the deal he had made: no more resets, no more changes. Just life, unfolding the way it wanted.

Whether Ren liked it or not.

He drifted toward the café in the corner of the bookstore, the faint scent of cinnamon drawing him in. He ordered a small latte—nothing fancy, just enough to keep his hands warm—and took a seat near the window, where the light spilled in from the street outside.

The city beyond the glass moved in its usual rhythm: people passing by, lost in their routines, unaware of the delicate threads Ren had once pulled to make sense of his life. Now, all those threads were gone, leaving him to navigate the world without a map.

He took a sip of his drink, the warmth spreading through him like a small comfort. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

The bell above the bookstore door jingled, drawing Ren’s attention. He glanced up—and nearly dropped his cup.

Hana Nishimura stepped inside, brushing the cold from her jacket as she scanned the room. Ren’s heart gave a sharp, unexpected jolt. Of all the places, on all the days, why did it have to be here?

He froze, unsure whether to wave, hide, or pretend he hadn’t seen her at all. He wasn’t ready for this—not after everything. Not after choosing to let go of the countless versions of her he had known.

But life, it seemed, had other plans.

Hana spotted him almost immediately. Her expression shifted—just slightly—from polite surprise to something softer, something curious. She gave a small wave and, before Ren could react, crossed the room to join him.

“Ren, right?” she asked, a warm smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Ren cleared his throat, trying to steady his racing heart. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

Hana glanced at the empty chair across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

He shook his head, his voice catching in his throat. “Not at all.”

She slid into the seat opposite him, her hands wrapped around the strap of her bag. For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the buzz of the café humming around them. Ren tried not to overthink it—tried not to wonder if this was fate, or just a coincidence. He had spent too long tangled in those questions, and they never led anywhere good.

“So,” Hana said, breaking the silence with a smile. “Do you come here often?”

Ren chuckled softly, grateful for the small talk. “More than I should. It’s a good place to hide from math quizzes.”

Hana laughed—a light, genuine sound that made Ren’s heart ache in the best way. “That sounds dangerously familiar.”

They talked for a while, the conversation flowing easily in a way Ren hadn’t expected. There were no awkward pauses, no second-guessing his words. He didn’t try to be charming or clever—he was just himself, and for once, that felt like enough.

Hana told him about her recent obsession with obscure bands and her plan to teach herself guitar, even though she was pretty sure it would end in disaster. Ren shared a story about his latest attempt to bake cookies that somehow ended with his kitchen filled with smoke and his mother declaring a temporary ban on all future cooking experiments.

They laughed, teased, and talked about nothing important. And yet, somehow, it felt like the most important conversation Ren had ever had.

At some point, the barista called Hana’s name, and she excused herself to grab her order. Ren watched her walk away, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. This wasn’t the Hana he had spent so long chasing in the timelines he tried to rewrite. This was someone new—someone real.

And Ren realized, with a quiet sense of relief, that he didn’t need her to remember the past. This moment—simple and imperfect—was enough.

When Hana returned, she cradled a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She sat down, tilting her head slightly as if studying him.

“You’re different,” she said, not unkindly. “Like... I don’t know. Lighter.”

Ren blinked, caught off guard. “Lighter?”

“Yeah,” Hana said, her smile soft. “Like you’ve finally stopped carrying something heavy.”

Ren opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. She wasn’t wrong. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of his choices didn’t feel like a burden. It felt... manageable.

“Maybe I have,” Ren said quietly, more to himself than to Hana.

They lingered a little longer, chatting about nothing and everything until the sun began to dip behind the buildings outside. Ren felt no urge to rush, no pressure to make the moment perfect. He just... let it be.

When it was finally time to leave, Hana stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “It was nice running into you, Ren.”

“Yeah,” Ren agreed, standing as well. “It was.”

Hana gave him one last smile—a smile that felt like both a beginning and an end—and then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd outside.

Ren stayed by the window for a moment, watching as the world continued its quiet, steady rhythm. The watch on his wrist ticked forward, unremarkable and ordinary, yet strangely comforting.

He smiled. This time, there were no missed opportunities. No regrets. Just a simple, fleeting moment shared over coffee.

And that, Ren realized, was enough.

As he stepped back into the cold evening air, the weight of small moments tucked carefully in his heart, Ren knew he didn’t need to change the past.