Amaris' POV
When I entered Hayley's Cyberspace, the little chime above the door greeted me softly. In my right hand was a lavender suitcase—elegant but modest, matching the ribbon in my hair. I had already changed into my part-time attire: a blouse with soft ruffles and a long, pale gray skirt. It felt strange to be here not as a customer or a helper, but as someone with intent—someone with purpose.
Hayley looked up from the register with her usual briskness, but her expression softened into a smile when she saw me.
"Hey, Amaris."
"Good afternoon, Ms. Ziktor," I said politely, stepping up to the counter.
She leaned an elbow on the surface as I set down my suitcase and clicked it open with care. Inside were neatly organized documents and a folded violet apron, embroidered with subtle thread patterns and hemmed in lace. My mother had insisted on designing it herself. She claimed a Shin should never wear anything off the rack—even for work.
"This is my résumé, and the rest are the necessary documents—identification, certifications, and a letter of approval from my guardians," I explained, lifting each page with care.
Hayley blinked at me, stunned for a moment, before laughing. "You really didn't have to go all-out. I would've hired you regardless."
I paused, tilted my head slightly, and nodded. "Understood." I returned the papers to the suitcase.
Hayley leaned on the counter. "So, does that mean your parents gave you permission?"
I smiled. "Yes."
"Sweet! When were you planning to start?"
I reached for the apron. "If possible, I would like to begin immediately, Ms. Ziktor."
"Then new hire," she said, grinning, "let's see what you've got. Two banana smoothies, please."
"Right away," I replied, slipping the apron over my uniform blouse and making my way to the back counter. I tied my hair into a loose low bun as I walked.
==================================
For the next hour, I surrendered myself to the rhythm of work. It wasn't difficult—not with my prior knowledge and occasional help in the past. When I slid the tray of matcha tea onto the service counter, Trent wordlessly took it from me, nodded, and carried it to table three.
Our coordination didn't need words anymore. Having helped Hayley a few times before, Trent and I had developed a mutual understanding—a quiet efficiency. Customers came and went. Orders were taken, drinks blended, trays wiped. The hum of conversation mixed with background music, and it all flowed like clockwork.
Later, I stood at the counter, drying my hands. Trent approached and gave me a polite smile. "Can you pass me a towel?"
"Of course." I handed him one, and he thanked me.
Soon after, the clock ticked near shift change. Trent glanced at the time, then turned back to me. "Did you order anything?"
"Not yet," I replied, just as one of the other staff called out, "Matcha latte and lemon iced tea for Amaris and Trent!"
I made my way over, took both drinks, nodded my thanks, and returned to the counter, placing Trent's beside his towel. I sipped my latte—smooth, delicate, just slightly sweet. My mother would've found it lacking in depth. I, however, found it… comforting.
That was when Conner, Kira, and Ethan slid into the counter chairs with all the grace of falling dominoes.
"Three sodas, please," Conner said.
"Me and Kira's brain needs fizz to work again," Ethan added.
"What about mine?" Conner asked.
Ethan deadpanned, "You don't have one."
They all laughed, and Trent chuckled too. "Three sodas, coming right up."
The staff handed me a pair of drinks. "Matcha latte and lemon iced tea for Amaris and Trent."
'Another one?' I blinked. But I thanked him and brought the extras to the counter. The place was lively, buzzing in a way that felt... familiar. Comfortable.
"Amaris," Ethan asked, "you up for a game?"
"Yes," I said, "though perhaps not at this exact moment."
He grinned. We launched into a conversation about software libraries and latency bugs—topics I rarely got to discuss with peers. Trent returned with three bottled sodas and served them to the trio, earning casual thanks and a wave.
Then came silence.
Not awkward—but calm. A quiet that blanketed the space like a warm shawl.
Conner sipped his soda, Ethan tapped on his laptop, Trent leaned against the counter, and I felt… watched. I glanced to my left.
Kira.
She was staring at me.
I tilted my head slightly in question. She blinked and shook her head as if to say, "never mind." I nodded, returning to my latte.
Then Ethan broke the silence. "Check it out, it says here that—brain waves are just electrical impulses that have converted into a binary language could be downloaded."
He turned to Conner. Nothing. He turned to Kira. Still nothing.
Trent, without missing a beat, said, "Yeah, I read about that. It means your eyes could become the video cameras of the future."
Simultaneously, I spoke. "They could be used to preserve experiences—archival memory data."
We glanced at each other.
Trent raised an eyebrow. "You read that too?"
I shrugged. "I read… widely."
But truly, how could I say, "I only knew because this entire conversation was from episode ten."?
"Gig TV, I wonder if it'll become part of basic cable," Conner muttered. Ethan glared at him.
And then came the moment.
Two figures entered Cyberspace. The door burst open like the entrance to a fashion show. A woman strutted in, heels sharp, hair flawless, red dress impeccable.
I didn't need to guess.
Cassidy gasped. "Nikki Valentina."
The air changed. People's eyes widened. Conversations ceased. Even the wind—a mystery in a sealed café—picked up and tossed Nikki's hair dramatically.
"Hey! Isn't that the girl from Ocean Alert?" Kira asked.
"The most popular television show of all time," Ethan added. "Does anyone have a brown paper bag? I'm hyperventilating."
I handed him one without a word. He took it gratefully and began breathing into it.
Trent murmured, "Whoa…"
Conner was all but drooling.
I excused myself, biting back laughter, and ducked behind the smoothie station. There, I allowed myself to laugh freely, quietly. I wiped the tears from my eyes. This situation was absurd. Delightfully absurd.
When I returned, Nikki was already leaving, and Cassidy threw a poster at the floor like a lovesick teenager.
"I have to meet her or my life will never be complete!" Ethan cried.
"I'll introduce you at our wedding," Conner said, patting Ethan on the shoulder.
"Oh, brother," muttered Kira.
Trent stepped out from the counter. "My shift's over. Ready to go?" he asked Kira.
She lit up and hopped off her seat.
I watched them, smiled faintly. In my previous life, I used to root for those two. Kira and Trent. They were adorable. And now, seeing them so close in real life, it should've made me happy.
So why… did it feel like someone twisted my stomach?
'Unpleasant. Irritating. Was I… ill?'
"Where are you two headed?" Ethan asked.
"Trent's gonna show me some sketches for the cover of my demo," Kira replied.
As I folded my apron, Ethan turned to me. "You going home, Amaris?"
"Yes and no. I'm waiting for my driver."
They nodded and turned back to the duo—but then Trent walked out without Kira. She stood there, eyes low, expression… hurt.
"Weren't you guys supposed to hang out?" Conner asked.
Ethan elbowed him. "Dude. Read the room."
I watched Kira, heart sinking. In the show, this moment was skipped. But now I could see it. The aftermath. The disappointment.
A familiar wave rose inside me—this time… not irritation. Something else.
Protectiveness?
'Ah. That must be it. No one likes seeing their friend hurt.'
Just then, my phone rang. My driver was outside. I packed my things and made my way to the door. But halfway out, I paused. Something pulled me back.
Kira.
Still sitting, still looking like her heart had taken a small hit.
I walked over to her quietly. She looked up as I approached. Without a word, I reached into my bag and pulled out a wrapped chocolate bar. I placed it gently on the counter in front of her.
She blinked, surprised.
"For you," I said softly. "A sweet remedy."
Then I turned and walked out.
Somehow, I hoped that little piece of chocolate could mend at least a small part of her day.