Troubled Sleep Bookstore 소설 & 이야기

Alley POV: I can not get back to sleep. I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand, 2:00AM ugh honestly? Stephen was snoring next to me and the last thing I wanted to do is wake him up. Quietly I slid out of bed and out the door. Closing it gently so that you couldn't even hear it latch, I made my way to the study. Since I can't sleep I guess I'll start trying to piece everything together. When I entered the study I looked around at the books that had been pulled from the library that were left out. The books had covered the desk, the leather couch and half of the floor. I huffed and sat down behind the desk in the big leather chair. I grabbed the first book my eyes met and read the title.

--- Later That Morning The drive down was quiet. Not silent—just full of soft touches and stolen glances. Raymond tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with a mellow jazz track. I rested my feet on the dash, sipping iced tea and feeling… light. Not just relaxed. Free. The bookstore was hidden behind a curtain of ivy, almost invisible from the road. There was no signboard. Just a hand-painted tile near the door that read, “Stories live here.” Inside, it smelled like old paper, warm cinnamon, and sunlight.

Yet here we were, tangled together on the worn sofa, a small island of warmth and solace in a world that felt utterly chaotic. Her breathing steadied, mirroring mine, as we nestled deeper into the soft blanket surrounding us. I intertwined my fingers with hers and gently kissed her head, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair, filling the tranquil moment sacred amidst the chaos. The flickering fire created a comforting glow, making time feel still. I closed my eyes, letting the soothing crackle of the flames lull me into peace. Whatever challenges dawn might bring, I knew we would face them together as sleep embraced us in its gentle hold.

For the first time in years, she fell asleep without nightmares. And for the first time in forever, she woke up with a smile. The bookstore had always been a sanctuary for Amara, a quiet retreat where she could momentarily forget the world outside. The scent of books, the rustling of pages, and the occasional customer asking for recommendations made her feel more at ease than she ever had in the university halls. But she never expected to find friendship within its walls.

“Not tonight.” I left the leather volume on the worktable and practically fled to my bedroom. The sheets were cool when I crawled beneath them, still wearing my oversized sweater and lounge shorts. I pulled the covers up to my chin, closed my eyes, and willed myself to sleep. I’ll read more in the morning, I told myself. When the strange feeling is gone. When Stan’s angry words aren’t still ringing in my ears. Sleep came faster than expected, pulling me under like warm, scented oil.

There was not even a ripped page in any of the books that housed the tales of the past. It was clear that nothing worth mentioning that happened in the past but instead of making me feel calm, this only made me feel more restless. There was nothing so serious that happened in the past, then why was I having the same damning dream almost every night. A dream that seems like it’s trying to pass a message to me. Why am I having? And as if the library failure wasn’t bad enough, the meeting with Lukas also didn’t pan out the way I wanted as he claimed to be too preoccupied with work, pushing the meeting till further notice.

The sudden darkness in the small bedroom felt heavy. I had packed four books for this trip. Four heavy, literary novels. I had a meticulous reading schedule mapped out in my notebook. I had even curated a playlist specifically designed for reading near water. Uncle David had a lot to answer for.. When sleep had refused to come to my eyes I carefully slid out from under the sheet. I heard a disturbing, weak sound in the mattress that made my heart stopped. I took a deep breath, then waited for the slow rhythmic breathing of baby max, across the hall to tell me that nothing had been disturbed.

I wandered, letting my eyes skim across the room in small, tight, cautious sweeps. The bed was impossibly inviting. The crimson silk all smooth and glossy, black pillows stacked like they had never been touched by someone who actually slept. The nightstand beside it was dark wood to match, its surface polished but not to a sheen. I stepped closer, my heartbeat starting to thunder again. Lying on top was a book. Thick, hardbound, the kind with a cracked spine and a ribbon falling out the bottom end as a marker. The title was stamped in worn silver lettering:

Nova couldn't sleep. The sheets twisted around her legs, the night air too heavy to breathe. Moonlight spilled across the floor, pale and cold, but all she could see was that man's face at the book fair. His words drilled through her like a rusted nail. She sat up, heart pounding.

Liberty said with concern, “Seren, you should take care of yourself. Your health is the most important thing.” “I will. It’s just that recently, my sleep quality hasn’t been good. I feel drowsy during the day. I don’t even dare to take a nap at noon because as soon as I lie down, I feel like sleeping forever.” Jasmine chimed in, “As I’ve said, the bookstore has me. You don’t need to worry. And don’t think I’m delicate. At home, the Bucham family treats me like a treasure. They won’t let me do anything. Even when I try to pour myself a glass of water, they’re afraid I’ll burn myself.