Chapter 26 26

Chapter 26 26
Chapter 26

Ava’s POV

I didn’t expect anything good to come from that job.

To me, it was just work. Something to help me survive. Something to keep me from asking questions like What if I can’t afford this? or What if I become a burden again?

The bookstore smelled like old paper and dust, the kind that settled in your lungs if you stayed too long. I liked it. Books didn’t judge. They didn’t ask why your shoes were worn out or why your hands were rough for someone my age. They just waited.

I was arranging the shelves when Mrs. Harlow called my name.

“Ava.”

Her voice was calm, but something in her tone made my heart skip. I wiped my hands on my skirt and walked over, already preparing myself for bad news. Maybe I had stacked something wrong. Maybe I had taken too long during my break.

“Yes, ma’am?”

She looked at me over her glasses. She always did that when she was thinking.

“You’re a student, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You read fast.”

I blinked. “I… I do?”

She nodded. “I’ve been watching you. You don’t just shelve books. You read the titles. Sometimes you stop. Sometimes you smile. Sometimes you frown.”

I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t realized anyone noticed.

“There’s a program,” she continued. “A weekend academic workshop. Sponsored. They train students, help with scholarships, part-time placements, future opportunities.”

My chest tightened.

“That sounds expensive,” I said quickly.

She smiled, just a little. “It’s not. It’s paid.”

Paid.

The word echoed in my head.

She explained more, but my mind kept circling that one word. Paid. Not charity. Not pity. Earned.

“It’s selective,” she said. “But I think you should apply. I can recommend you.”

For a moment, the room felt too small. My hands shook slightly, and I folded them together so she wouldn’t see.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll think about it.”

She nodded, as if she already knew I would.

That night, I lay awake in the small room at Ethan’s parents’ house, staring at the ceiling. The fan made a soft noise, steady and calm, unlike my thoughts.

This could change things.

Not all at once. Not like magic. But slowly. A better job. Less stress. Less fear when school handed out another list of requirements.

But the workshop was on weekends.

Holidays.

The same time I stayed here.

The same time I saw Ethan the most.

My chest tightened again, but this time for a different reason.

I didn’t want to leave.

And that scared me more than wanting to go.

I didn’t tell Ethan right away.

That was my first mistake.

I told myself I needed time. I told myself I didn’t want to get excited over nothing. But the truth was simpler and uglier.

I was afraid.

Afraid he’d think I was running again.

Afraid he’d offer to help in a way that made me feel small.

Afraid he’d look hurt.

So I stayed quiet.

And Ethan noticed.

He always did.

“Ava,” he said one evening, when I came back later than usual. “Where were you?”

“Work.”

“You’re tired.”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t argue. That worried me.

“You’ve been distant,” he said after a moment.

I kept my eyes on the floor. “I’ve just been busy.”

“With what?”

I swallowed.

“With my life.”

The words came out sharper than I meant.

Silence fell between us, thick and heavy.

“I’m not your enemy,” he said quietly.

“I know,” I whispered.

But knowing didn’t make it easier.

I told him two days later.

We were sitting outside, the air cool, the sky darkening slowly. I told him about the workshop. About the recommendation. About the weekends.

I didn’t look at him while I spoke.

When I finished, I waited for the familiar things. The questions. The worry. The solutions.

They didn’t come.

He was quiet for a long time.

Finally, he said, “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” I admitted. My voice shook. “But I don’t want to lose what I have here.”

He let out a slow breath.

“I’m scared,” he said.

That surprised me.

“Of what?”

“That if you grow too fast… you’ll realize you don’t need me.”

I turned to look at him then.

“That’s not true,” I said quickly.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe. But that’s my fear.”

For the first time, he wasn’t trying to fix anything. He wasn’t trying to protect me by force. He was just… honest.

“I don’t want you to stop growing,” he continued. “I just don’t know how to stand still while you do.”

Something inside me softened.

“I don’t want to disappear,” I said. “I just want to be strong.”

He nodded. “Then go.”

The word landed gently, but it shook me.

“I’ll wait,” he added.

That night, I filled out the application.

My hands trembled, but I didn’t stop.

For the first time, I wasn’t choosing between survival and connection.

I was choosing both.

And I didn’t know where it would lead.

But for once, I wasn’t running.