The next morning came bright and clear, sunlight pouring through the café windows in wide, golden bands. Hannah was already busy behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, flour dusted along her wrist. Emma sat at her usual corner table, sketchbook open, half-listening to the soft chatter of early customers.
Her phone buzzed against the table. A new email.
She glanced at it, expecting an order confirmation or spam—and froze.
From: Marshall Gallery
Subject: Exhibition Invitation — Spring Showcase
For a moment she couldn't breathe. She'd submitted her portfolio months ago, more as a dare to herself than anything else. She tapped the message open, eyes skimming the words until they began to blur.
"Your work captures the stillness of everyday life with rare honesty. We'd be honored to feature your collection in our upcoming showcase…"
The words landed like soft thunder.
"Emma?" Hannah's voice cut gently through her daze. "Everything okay?"
Emma looked up, blinking. "I—uh—yeah. I think so." She handed Hannah the phone, unable to find her voice.
Hannah wiped her hands on her apron before taking it, scanning the message quickly. Her face broke into a slow, radiant smile. "You did it."
"I guess I did," Emma whispered.
Hannah set the phone down and took her hand, flour and all. "This is huge, Em. You have to go."
The words should have felt simple, but they carried weight. Go. The city, the noise, the distance.
Emma swallowed hard. "It's for two months."
"I'll survive two months." Hannah's smile faltered just slightly, but her thumb brushed Emma's palm in reassurance. "You've worked for this. You deserve it."
The café bell chimed as a customer entered, the small moment breaking like a soap bubble. Hannah gave her hand one last squeeze before stepping away, her voice light again. "We'll celebrate tonight, okay?"
Emma nodded, but her gaze lingered on the email. Outside, sunlight glinted off the windowpane, scattering light across her sketchbook.
She traced the letters of her own name in the message—proof that she was seen, chosen—and whispered under her breath, "Two months."
For the first time in a long while, the future felt wide open.
And terrifying.