6

6

Isabella. 

I was walking back from the post office, clutching a package that contained a few copies of my old book. The one that technically wasn’t mine anymore. I told myself I was keeping them as evidence. That someday, maybe, I’d prove the truth. But the truth didn’t change the fact that seeing my name printed under Nadia’s glossy, filtered face still made my stomach twist.

I paused, noticing the quaint little storefront with ivy crawling up its frame and a hand-painted sign that read Wild Root. An apothecary. I wandered in without thinking.

The bell above the door chimed, giving off some kind of fairytale vibe. Inside smelled like Lavender and Citrus with hints of dried flowers and cinnamon. Wooden shelves lined the space, filled with amber jars and labeled tins. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling like upside-down chandeliers. It felt…warm. And not in terms of temperature.

Behind the counter stood a woman who looked like she’d just stepped out of a P*******t board for woodland witches. She had long, wavy red hair pulled into a loose braid, freckles across her cheeks, and sharp green eyes that immediately locked on to mine.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” she said, all matter-of-fact.

I blinked. “Well, thank you. That’s exactly the vibe I was going for.”

She laughed, and just like that, the weirdness became charm.

“I’m Sienna,” she said, coming around the counter. “And I don’t usually lead with insults, I swear. But you’ve got that hollow-under-the-eyes, too-much-brain-no-rest energy going on.”

“I feel so seen,” I said dryly. “I’m Isabella. New in town. Sleep-deprived. Tea-dependent.”

Sienna tilted her head. “Isabella Rune?”

Oh no.

I stiffened. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the P. “But your name sounds like it should belong to a famous poet or a missing heiress. Or both.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “You had me worried there.”

“Why? You running from the law?”

“Not exactly.”

She didn’t push. She nodded and said, “Well, let’s get you something that’ll knock you out for a few hours without killing your dreams.”

She turned toward a set of wooden drawers and started pulling ingredients with the kind of graceful ease that comes from doing the same thing over and over again, and maybe magic. Okay, probably not magic. Probably.

“So, insomnia,” she said, measuring loose herbs into a small paper pouch. “What’s the cause? Heartbreak? Existential dread? Too much TikTok?”

A nice touch of human to the weirdness. I liked her already.

“Bit of column A and column B. I didn’t pack my ring light, so definitely not C,” I replied with an overly dramatic sigh.

She grinned. “Fair enough.”

I looked around the shop as she worked. It gave off a peaceful and relaxing vibe, exactly just what I needed to calm myself right now.

“So,” I started slowly, “what’s the secret to a place like this surviving in a town this small?” I raised a brow as I finished the question.

She handed me the pouch and tied it off with a thin twine before answering the question.

“Willow Creek isn’t just a town,” she said. “It’s kind of like a personality. A mood. You don’t live here, you adjust to it, it you understand what I mean.”

I raised an eyebrow again, tilting my head to make sense of what she just said. “You make it sound like dating someone difficult.”

Sienna nodded solemnly. “Exactly. It tests you, challenges you, expects things you don’t always want to give. But if you listen to it… it changes you,” she explained in the best way she could, and I did understand what she was saying.

“In a good way?”

“In a necessary way.”

That made me pause. She said it so simply, but it didn’t feel so simple. It didn’t feel like it was supposed to be simple.

“And what if I don’t want to change?” I asked.

Sienna shrugged. “Then you’ll still change. But it’ll be the hard way. Let it be gentle, if you can. Let it unfold.”

The way she said it made my head spin. It felt like there was no choice to that. The safest option was probably to pack my stuff and leave but then there was no place better for me than here.

I stared down at the little pouch in my hand. It smelled like chamomile and lemon balm and something slightly smoky. It was comforting. Sienna didn’t know me, not really, but somehow it felt like she did.

“How much do I owe you?”

“First blend’s on the house,” she said. “Call it a new neighbor discount.”

“That’s very generous.”

“I have an ulterior motive. If it works, you’ll be back for more.”

I smiled. “You’re definitely a witch.”

She laughed again. “Only the fun kind.”

I left the apothecary with my tea and a lighter feeling in my chest.

That night, I boiled water and steeped the herbs just as she’d instructed. Seven minutes and covered. The smell alone made me drowsy. I curled up with a blanket, sipped slowly, and felt my bones begin to loosen.

As the tea kicked in, I opened my journal again.

Met a woman today who talks like she’s been here for a hundred years. Like she’s seen people break and rebuild and choose better the second time.

Her name’s Sienna. She’s kind in a way that doesn’t demand anything back. I think I needed that more than I realized.

I tapped my pen on the edge of the page and kept writing.

She said this town changes people. Let it change you gently. I don’t know if I know how to be gentle anymore. But maybe I could learn.

A creak from the kitchen pulled my attention. I got up to check. There was nothing there. Probably just the wind. Or, if we’re being honest, my overactive imagination creating drama where there wasn’t any.

I finished the tea, turned out the light, and slipped into bed.

For the first time since I got here, sleep didn’t fight me.