Lydia stood behind the glass counter, absently rearranging a few bracelets that didn’t need rearranging. Her fingers moved, but her mind was elsewhere—still trapped in the lingering tension of the breakfast with Scott’s family.
The words Mrs. Davidson had said kept echoing in her mind. “Being Scott’s wife will require a certain level of commitment.”
She knew this arrangement would come with challenges, but giving up her job? That felt like giving up a piece of herself. She had worked hard for her independence—her routines, her small joys, her freedom. It wasn’t just about the paycheck. It was about having something that was hers.
And although Scott had told her not to worry, had even said she could continue working if she wanted to, the weight of Mrs. Davidson’s expectations clung to her like fog.
“Hey,” a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.