Chapter 236: The Shop That Wasn’t There

Adrian arrived at the café fifteen minutes early.

He ordered a coffee and chose the table beside the window. It was the same place where he and Jonas had met before, though the last time they had spoken, neither of them had known what to say.

The city moved outside.

People crossed the road with shopping bags. A delivery rider stopped near the entrance of a pharmacy. Somewhere across the street, a child was arguing with his mother about something that appeared to be extremely important.

Adrian watched them for a while.

Ordinary things.

He was beginning to understand how much he had missed them.

His phone vibrated.

Lena: Don’t forget to buy milk on your way home.

Adrian smiled.

Adrian: I’m meeting someone.

Lena: And?

Adrian: I might forget.

Lena: Then I’ll remember for both of us.

He put the phone away.

Jonas arrived three minutes later.

He looked tired. Not physically exhausted, exactly, but like someone who had spent several nights trying to solve a problem that refused to make sense.

He noticed Adrian and approached the table.

"You’re early."

"So are you."

"I didn’t sleep much."

"That makes two of us."

Jonas pulled out the chair opposite him.

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

The waiter came over. Jonas ordered tea, waited until the man had left, and then placed both hands on the table.

"I saw the notebook."

Adrian leaned back.

"You mentioned that."

"At Margaret’s shop."

"The old stationery shop?"

Jonas nodded.

"After it closed."

Adrian waited.

Jonas glanced toward the window before continuing.

"I was passing through that street. It was raining. I remember that clearly because I didn’t have an umbrella, and I was already annoyed about getting wet."

"Sounds like a normal evening."

"It was. That’s the problem."

Jonas rubbed his forehead.

"The shop had been closed for years. The sign was still there, but the windows were covered. I knew the place because I’d passed it several times while looking for my brother."

"You went inside?"

"I thought I did."

Adrian frowned.

"Thought?"

"I tried the door. It opened."

Jonas paused as the waiter brought his tea. He waited until they were alone again.

"There was light inside. The shelves were full. The counter was clean. It looked exactly like a shop that had closed five minutes earlier, not one that had been abandoned for years."

"Was anyone there?"

"No."

"Then what did you see?"

"A notebook."

Jonas looked directly at Adrian.

"On the counter. Open."

Adrian didn’t interrupt.

"It had a name written on the page. Mine."

That got his attention.

"Your name?"

"Not my full name. Just Jonas. Underneath it was a sentence."

"What sentence?"

Jonas took a breath.

"Someone is still waiting for you to stop looking."

Adrian stared at him.

"Did you recognize the handwriting?"

"No."

"Was it Margaret’s?"

"I don’t know. I never met her."

"Did you touch the notebook?"

"Yes."

Jonas lowered his eyes.

"The moment I touched it, the lights went out."

"And then?"

"I was standing outside. The door was locked. The windows were covered again. My clothes were wet, and I had a notebook in my hand."

Adrian looked at his hands.

"You took it?"

"No. I didn’t have anything."

"Then how do you know it was real?"

"Because I remember the weight of it."

Jonas sounded frustrated with himself.

"I know how that sounds. I know what you’re thinking. But I remember holding it. I remember the roughness of the cover against my palm. I remember the smell of old paper."

"Memories can feel real."

"I know."

"That doesn’t mean you’re lying."

Jonas looked up.

For the first time since arriving, he seemed slightly relieved.

Adrian took a sip of his coffee.

"Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?"

"Because I didn’t know what it meant. And because I thought you might know."

"Know what?"

"Why it was my name."

Adrian considered that.

"Did you see anyone else?"

"No."

"Any writing on the walls? Anything unusual?"

Jonas shook his head.

"Just the notebook."

"And the sentence?"

"That’s all."

Adrian looked through the window.

He remembered the forest. The tree with names carved into it. The chamber. The door marked BEGIN. The other version of himself behind the glass.

He remembered the feeling of being watched.

But he also remembered making a decision.

He had chosen to stop treating every strange thing as an invitation to abandon his life.

"I don’t know what it means," Adrian said.

Jonas seemed disappointed.

"You’re not going to tell me to investigate it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don’t think you need another person telling you what to do."

Jonas looked down at his tea.

Adrian continued.

"You said you were looking for your brother. You found him. He wants to leave, and you’re trying to accept that. Maybe this has something to do with that. Maybe it doesn’t."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"That’s not something I can decide for you."

Jonas gave a tired laugh.

"You always say things like that."

"Because people keep asking me to make their decisions."

"Do you ever get tired of it?"

"Constantly."

That earned a small smile.

For a while, they talked about ordinary things. Jonas told him that his brother had started looking for work in another town. He had been considering renting a small room there, away from the house and the constant arguments.

Jonas didn’t like the idea.

But he was trying.

"He called me yesterday," Jonas said. "Asked if I’d help him move."

"And?"

"I said yes."

Adrian nodded.

"Good."

"I wanted to ask him to stay."

"But you didn’t."

"No."

Jonas looked at his tea.

"I think I’m learning that loving someone doesn’t give me the right to keep them where I want them."

Adrian smiled faintly.

"That’s a difficult lesson."

"You’re telling me."

The conversation continued for another twenty minutes. When Jonas finally stood, he seemed lighter than when he had arrived.

At the door, he stopped.

"Adrian."

"Yeah?"

"If I see that shop again, I’m going to go inside."

Adrian considered him.

"Then take a picture first."

Jonas blinked.

"What?"

"If the shop is really there, take a picture. If it isn’t, you’ll have something to show me."

Jonas laughed.

"That’s your advice?"

"It’s practical."

"You’re becoming boring."

"I’m trying."

Jonas left.

Adrian remained at the table for a few minutes.

He didn’t feel the need to follow him.

That was new.

Once, he would have chased every loose thread until the whole world began to unravel. He would have demanded answers, searched every possibility, and refused to sleep until he had found something resembling an explanation.

Now he had a grocery list waiting on his phone.

Milk.

Bread.

Eggs.

He finished his coffee and went home.

---

Lena was in the kitchen when he arrived.

She was cutting vegetables, with her phone propped against a jar beside her.

"You’re late."

"By how much?"

"Seven minutes."

"That’s not late."

"It is when someone is waiting for you."

Adrian placed the grocery bag on the counter.

"I bought milk."

Lena glanced at the bag.

"And?"

"Eggs."

"And?"

"Bread."

She looked at him.

"You’re missing something."

Adrian checked the bag.

"Did I forget something?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"To ask whether I needed anything else."

He stared at her.

Then he slowly nodded.

"Right. Anything else?"

"Too late."

"Can I go back?"

"No."

"You’re cruel."

"I’m making dinner."

He leaned against the counter and watched her work.

"How was your day?"

"Fine. Work was annoying. Someone sent me a message asking for something they’d already received yesterday."

"Maybe they forgot."

"Then they can forget quietly."

Adrian laughed.

Lena glanced at him.

"How was Jonas?"

"He told me about the shop."

Her expression changed slightly.

"What happened?"

Adrian explained everything. The closed stationery shop. The open door. The notebook with Jonas’s name. The sentence written beneath it.

Lena listened without interrupting.

When he finished, she put the knife down.

"Do you think it was real?"

"I think Jonas believes it happened."

"That’s not what I asked."

"I don’t know."

She leaned against the counter.

"Does it bother you?"

"A little."

"Because you think it might be connected to the forest?"

"Probably."

"Are you going to investigate?"

Adrian shook his head.

"Not tonight."

"Good."

He looked at her.

"That’s all?"

"What else should I say?"

"I don’t know. Maybe ask whether I’m worried."

"Are you?"

He thought about it.

"Yes."

Lena nodded.

"Then you can be worried. You don’t have to do anything about it immediately."

Adrian looked at her for a moment.

She returned to cutting the vegetables.

It was such a simple thing to say.

He wondered how many years he had spent believing that every feeling demanded an action. That fear meant he had to fight, curiosity meant he had to search, and uncertainty meant he had to find an answer.

Maybe sometimes uncertainty was just uncertainty.

He moved closer and picked up the second chopping board.

"Can I help?"

"Wash those first."

"Yes, chef."

"And don’t cut yourself."

"I’ll do my best."

"Your best is not reassuring."

They prepared dinner together.

Later, while Lena washed the dishes, Adrian checked his phone. There was a message from Clara.

Clara: I spoke to Anna. Saturday still works. Michael is looking forward to meeting me. Thank you for helping.

Adrian replied that he was glad things had worked out.

A moment later, another message arrived.

Clara: Anna said her father has kept something from my mother’s shop. He wouldn’t tell her what it was. He said he’d rather show me himself.

Adrian read it twice.

He looked toward Lena.

"Something else?"

"Maybe."

He showed her the message.

Lena dried her hands and read it.

"That’s interesting."

"Could be an old notebook."

"Or something completely ordinary."

"Probably."

She handed his phone back.

"Try not to turn it into a mystery before Saturday."

"I wasn’t going to."

"You were already thinking about it."

Adrian put the phone away.

She was right.

---

That night, he dreamed of a shop.

It wasn’t Margaret’s stationery shop.

The shelves were empty, and the walls were painted a pale yellow. There was a bell above the door, but no counter, no windows, and no sign outside.

He stood in the middle of the room.

Someone had left a small envelope on the floor.

His name was written on it.

Not Adrian.

Aeris.

He didn’t pick it up.

Instead, he looked toward the empty doorway.

For a moment, he thought he heard someone breathing on the other side.

Then a voice spoke.

"You stopped looking."

Adrian remained still.

"Yes."

"Why?"

He looked down at the envelope.

"Because I found something else."

"What?"

He thought of Lena. The kitchen. The groceries. The photograph on the living-room shelf.

"My life."

The silence lasted a long time.

Then the voice said something he couldn’t quite understand.

The shop disappeared.

---

Adrian woke up before sunrise.

Lena was asleep beside him, one hand resting near his shoulder. He lay still for a while, listening to the quiet sounds of the apartment.

No strange voices.

No footsteps outside the door.

No mysterious messages.

Just the distant sound of a vehicle passing along the street.

He reached for his phone.

There were no new messages.

He put it back.

Saturday was still two days away. Clara would meet Michael, Jonas would help his brother move, and Adrian had a few things to finish before the weekend.

For now, there was breakfast to make.

He carefully moved Lena’s hand, slipped out of bed, and went to the kitchen.

The milk was in the refrigerator.

The bread was on the counter.

And for once, he had remembered everything on the list.