Chapter 18

The salty ocean breeze of Merathea drifted in as Vanessa pushed open the glass door of the bookstore. A soft chime rang from the bell above. "Morning, Vanessa," the shop owner, Janice McGuire, greeted her with a warm smile and handed her a cup of steaming tea. "You're looking better today." Vanessa took the cup. Her fingertips stung slightly from the heat, but somehow, she found comfort in it. "Thank you," she murmured softly, taking a small sip as the aroma spread across her tongue. Six months ago, she arrived in Merathea with only cash in her pocket and a worn suitcase. She'd rented a tiny apartment facing the sea, and at night she could hear the sound of the waves. Soon after, she found herself a job. During the day, she organized bookshelves, helped customers find books, and occasionally read one or two herself. Her life had become so simple that her existence seemed insignificant. She had no past nor memories. There was no more blurry figure that appeared in her dreams some