Chapter 178: Chapter 178

The morning crept in gently, painting the windows with soft gold.

Billy stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt—not fancy, just neat.

A light blue button-up and dark jeans. Clean. Presentable. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling at the ends.

Downstairs, the smell of coffee drifted up like a silent invitation.

He stepped into the kitchen, finding Mr. Dand already at the table, flipping through an old newspaper with one hand while the other nursed a mug.

"You’re up early," Dand said without looking up.

"Didn’t sleep much," Billy admitted, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

"Excitement or nerves?"

"Feels like the first page of a new book—exciting, but you don’t know if you’ll like where it goes."

Dand folded the paper, finally giving him his full attention. "You going into town?"

Billy nodded, fingers wrapped around his mug. "There’s a space near the corner bakery. It’s been closed for a while. Artur mentioned it once. Said the owner might be open to renting."

"You thinking of starting already?"

"I’m just... asking questions today. Seeing the place. Maybe talking to the owner, if they’re around."

Dand studied him for a beat, then nodded slowly. "That’s good. Asking questions means you’re thinking past the fear."

Billy exhaled, a half-laugh. "Still scared, though."

"You’ll be fine," Dand said. "You’re not the same boy who washed up by the river. You’ve got steadier eyes now."

Billy looked down, his fingers tracing the rim of the cup.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Dand pushed the paper toward him. "Here. The address is probably still listed. Tell ’em I sent you if they give you a hard time."

Billy accepted it with a small nod. "I will."

He left Dand’s kitchen with the address folded in his pocket, the taste of coffee still lingering.

The village air was cool against his face when he reached the corner bakery, and there it was—the faded sign waiting for him.

An hour later, Billy stood in front of the closed shop.

Faded signage clung to the windows: "Second Chapter – Books & Curiosities." The glass was dusty. One corner of the curtain had fallen, revealing shelves still lined with forgotten books.

He pressed his palm to the window, peering in.

It was quiet. Unused, but not unloved.

The door creaked open behind him.

"You like it?" came a voice.

Billy turned. An older woman in a long cardigan and thick glasses stood holding a keyring. Her gray curls were pulled into a loose bun.

"Sorry," Billy said. "I was just—"

"I’m Nora. Owner. Or was." She tilted her head. "You looking to open something?"

"I might be," he said. "A bookstore, maybe a piano tucked in the corner. Something quiet. Comfortable."

She smiled, amused. "You look more like someone who reads in cafés than owns bookstores."

Billy laughed lightly. "Maybe both."

"Well," she jangled the keys, "you’re in luck. I was just coming by to check the locks."

Billy hesitated. "Could I look inside?"

She unlocked the door. "Five minutes."

Inside, dust motes floated like memories. The air smelled of wood and paper. The shelves were built-in, rough but strong.

There was a small nook at the back—enough for a chair, maybe even a piano if he moved the shelves.

Billy walked slowly, fingers brushing over the counters. His voice was quiet.

"It already feels like a place that listens."

Nora tilted her head. "Not many people say things like that."

Billy looked back at her, eyes softer now. "It’s hard to explain. I think I’d like to bring it back to life."

She smiled, thoughtful.

"Well," she said, "I never got around to selling it. Too many memories," she said, running her thumb along the key as if it might remember her grip.

"Places ... they don’t like being empty for long."

Billy blinked. "You mean—?"

"Come back tomorrow," she said, tucking the keys back into her coat. "Let’s talk terms."

Billy stood in the doorway as she walked away, his hand resting on the frame.

For the first time in weeks, something inside him shifted. A quiet click. Like a door unlocking.

Like the start of something real.

Billy was halfway home, walking along the quiet path where trees leaned over the road like they were sharing secrets.

His jacket swayed in the breeze, and the folder from the shop meeting was tucked safely under his arm.

The village was quieter in the afternoon, like it had exhaled after the morning rush.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Billy stopped walking.

He answered with a lifted brow and a half-smile. "Well, well... the city boy lives."

Mark’s laugh came through the line, clear and relaxed. "Look who finally picked up."

"I should say that to you," Billy said, adjusting the phone against his ear as he started walking again. "You vanished like fog after the sun comes out."

"Work, life... other stuff," Mark said vaguely. Then his tone shifted. "Hey. I heard you’re really doing it. The bookstore?"

Billy’s smile softened. "Yeah. Just came back from seeing the place. It’s dusty and beautiful and falling apart in all the right ways."

There was a pause, then a second voice cut in faintly.

"Tell him to stop being dramatic," came Jay’s teasing voice in the background.

Billy blinked. "Is that—?"

Mark chuckled. "Yeah, he’s here. We’re together now."

Billy slowed down, lips parting just slightly.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just... smiled to himself, eyes drifting to the sky.

"That’s good," he said softly.

Mark’s voice was warmer now. "Yeah. It is."

A shuffle, then the phone changed hands.

Jay’s voice came through, brighter. "Hey, village boy."

Billy laughed immediately. "Hey, city boy’s boyfriend."

Jay snorted. "Wow, is that what I’m called now?"

"You ditched the countryside for him," Billy said, grinning. "Ran straight back to the city like love was a train leaving at midnight."

Jay didn’t skip a beat. "Says the guy who moved where the goats have more social life."

Billy gasped. "First of all, rude. Second—accurate."

They both laughed, that easy, genuine kind that came from missing someone but knowing they were okay.

Jay added, "Seriously though... you sound different. Lighter."

Billy hesitated. "Maybe I am."

A short silence, filled with quiet understanding.

Mark’s voice chimed in again faintly, "Tell him we’re visiting soon."

Jay relayed it. "We’ll come down after things settle here. Maybe help with your bookstore. I’m great at dusting, you know."

Billy smiled, holding the phone tighter. "Only if you bring cake."

"I’ll bring cake if you don’t make me read any depressing novels."

Another laugh from both ends. Then Jay’s voice gentled a bit.

"Proud of you, Billy."

Billy exhaled slowly, heart tugging just slightly.

"Thanks," he murmured.

They stayed quiet for a beat longer. Then Jay said, "Alright. We’ll talk soon. Mark’s dragging me to some boring dinner with his dad."

"Have fun. Don’t spill wine on the tie this time."

Jay groaned. "One time, Billy."

"One legendary time," Billy teased, before the line ended with a click.

Billy slid the phone into his pocket, walking the rest of the way with a quiet smile.

The kind you wear when you know you’re not alone—no matter how far apart.

The front gate creaked as Billy pushed it open, one hand still buried in his coat pocket, the other holding the folder he hadn’t let go of since town.

His steps slowed as he rounded the side of the house.

Artur stood in the patchy yard, sleeves rolled up, tossing feed into the little coop where the chickens fluttered and pecked eagerly at the ground.

His shirt clung slightly to his back with the heat of the afternoon, hair falling over his brow as he leaned into the motion.

One of the hens tried to peck his boot, and he clicked his tongue at it without looking up.

Billy stopped just before the path curved. For a moment, he didn’t say anything.

There was something grounding about it—this quiet picture of Artur doing something so simple.

No crowds, no cameras. No broken memories or uncertain futures. Artur’s smile, in the easy rhythm of his hands scattering feed.

Something in that small, ordinary picture made Billy’s chest feel steady, and a man who looked like home.

Then, Billy called out gently, "You always flirt with the chickens like that, or is today special?"

Artur turned, surprised, squinting against the sun.

A grin pulled across his face. "You’re back."

"Didn’t expect me to get lost on the way to the village center, did you?"

Artur wiped his hands against his jeans as he walked over. "You’re late. I almost sent a search party."

Billy stepped closer, giving a playful glance around. "Yeah? Where’s the team—Dand and a rooster on a leash?"

Artur laughed softly, and for a second, they just stood there.

"You look like the meeting went okay," Artur said, nodding toward the folder.

Billy shrugged with a lopsided smile. "Well, the owner didn’t throw me out. So that’s something."

Artur studied him for a moment. "You’re smiling."

"Just nice to see it," Artur said quietly, then looked down. "Come help me finish this. I think one of them’s plotting against me."

Billy dropped his bag near the bench and rolled up his sleeves. "If I get pecked, I’m suing."

Artur smirked as he handed him the sack of feed. "Take it up with the rooster. He’s the one in charge around here."

They worked side by side, tossing feed and gently herding the stragglers.

There was no music, no grand gestures—just sunlight, the flutter of wings, and two people standing shoulder to shoulder, learning how to build something steady.

They worked side by side, the sun dipping lower, and Billy thought: this is how you build a life—one quiet corner, one shared task, one afternoon at a time.