Lines That Blur

The first chill of autumn crept through the air, wrapping the town in a quiet stillness. Steph pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she walked the short distance from school to the restaurant. It had become her routine, helping out after classes, bussing tables, sometimes sneaking in time to study at the counter when there were no customers.

The little restaurant was a second home. Not just because her father, Jeremy, owned it, but because it was built on love. A gathering place for families, lonely souls, dreamers, and workers. It smelled like fresh bread, spices, and hope. No matter how heavy her heart felt, the restaurant always offered a kind of comfort.

Inside, she spotted Hassan first.

He was wiping down tables, his sleeves rolled up, muscles flexing with every swipe. He didn't notice her at first he rarely did anymore not since that heavy conversation behind the garden shed. But she noticed him. She always noticed him now.

It was getting harder to ignore the way her stomach twisted whenever she saw him.

The easy, brother-sister friendship they once had was slipping through her fingers, replaced by something heavier. Something neither of them dared name.

Noah was already there too, talking to one of the regulars by the counter. He looked up and caught Steph's eye, smiling that easy, familiar smile that used to set her world spinning.

But something had shifted.

Where once her heart raced for him, now it ached a dull, lingering ache for something she wasn't even sure she wanted anymore.

---

"Hey," Hassan said gruffly as she walked past him, breaking the silence.

Steph forced a smile. "Hey."

For a moment, their eyes locked. Just a moment but it was enough to make the world tilt.

Jeremy emerged from the kitchen, clapping his hands together. "Alright, troops! Busy night ahead. Hassan, you're on kitchen runs. Steph, tables two through five. Noah help Mr. Benson set up outside."

The kids scattered to their duties, but Steph couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed again, something she couldn't control.

---

Hours later, when the rush had died down, Steph found herself alone in the kitchen, stacking plates. The faint sound of the radio hummed in the background, a soft country song about lost love and new beginnings.

Hassan walked in, brushing flour off his jeans. He paused when he saw her, then hesitated like he was about to leave again.

Steph caught his eye. "You can stay. I don't bite."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face, and he leaned against the counter, watching her.

For a few minutes, they worked in silence — the kind that wasn't uncomfortable, but thick with unspoken words.

Then, softly, Hassan said, "Why are you still mad at me?"

Steph froze, a plate halfway into the stack.

"I'm not mad," she said too quickly, too defensively.

"You are," he said, a small, sad laugh escaping him. "You've been avoiding me."

Steph put the plate down, feeling her chest tighten.

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm... figuring things out."

He nodded slowly, eyes studying her. "Me too."

There was a pause. The kind of pause that asked a hundred questions without a single word.

"Do you regret it?" she asked suddenly, her voice almost a whisper.

Hassan's brow furrowed. "Regret what?"

"Being here," she said, staring at her hands. "Being with us. With me."

His expression softened immediately. He stepped closer but didn't touch her, didn't cross that invisible line that still stood between them.

"No," he said simply. "Never."

Steph blinked, feeling the sting of sudden tears.

Because despite all her fears about their different religions, their different pasts, the fear of abandonment, part of her still desperately needed to hear those words.

Hassan shoved his hands in his pockets. "Do you regret it?" he asked quietly.

Steph looked up at him, really looked at him the boy who had become a man too fast, the boy who had been left behind but never gave up.

"No," she whispered.

Their eyes held for a long time, hearts speaking the truths their mouths were too scared to say.

---

Outside, Noah's voice called out, breaking the moment.

"Steph! Dad says we're closing early. You coming?"

Steph blinked, stepping back as if waking from a dream. Hassan dropped his gaze, the spell between them shattered once again by the real world.

"Yeah!" she called out to Noah, forcing cheer into her voice. She grabbed the last plate and hurried out of the kitchen without looking back.

Behind her, Hassan leaned heavily against the counter, closing his eyes.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep pretending that Steph was just his best friend's little sister.

And Steph didn't know how much longer she could keep pretending that her heart wasn't already tangled up with his.

That night, as Steph lay in bed, she stared out the window at the stars. She thought of Noah, and the years they spent dreaming about the future. And she thought of Hassan, the boy she hadn't planned on, the boy who scared her with how deeply he made her feel.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she realized something she hadn't wanted to admit

Her heart wasn't just tangled anymore.

It was already his.

And that terrified her more than anything else.