SeleneIt had been a few days since I started helping out at Parisa's café.I stuck mostly to small tasks. Wiping tables, refilling sugar jars, slicing pastries for the display counter. It kept my mind occupied, and my body at least partially distracted from the weight I carried—both physically and emotionally. Each night I lay in bed with aching feet and a recessed feeling I couldn't quite explain. Gratitude, maybe, or guilt. Or something else I didn't want to name.Parisa always hovered. Not unkindly, but with this constant... watchfulness. Like she expected me to break or vanish at any second. Her smile never faded, not really. It just... settled on her face like it had nowhere else to go.Today, as I swept by the windows, I paused. The café looked fine, but something felt off. I thought maybe some flowers would help. Something simple—just a splash of color on the tables to breathe some life into the place.So I made a decision. I wiped my hands, grabbed my coat, and slipped out to
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