Between Pages and Hearts

Juliet Hartley's apartment smelled like cold coffee and paper. The walls were lined with secondhand bookshelves stuffed with literary classics, poetry collections, and drafts of her own novels that never made it past chapter five. It was late-too late to be awake on a weekday-but she sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by crumpled pages, a flickering candle, and her buzzing laptop.

She'd been staring at the submission page for over an hour. "Send manuscript," it read in bold blue letters. Her manuscript-"Beneath the Willow"-had taken her two years and four heartbreaks to complete. It was raw, unpolished in places, but honest. Still, the fear of rejection sat heavy on her chest.

She rubbed her eyes and thought about her father's words the last time she brought up her writing. "You need a real job, Juliet. Not these... pipe dreams." His voice, dry and clipped, still echoed in her head. She hadn't spoken to him in over a year.

A gust of winter wind rattled her apartment windows. She pulled her oversized cardigan tighter around her and leaned forward.

"Just do it," she whispered to herself. Her fingers hovered, then pressed the trackpad. The submission portal spun, then flashed a cheerful confirmation: Your manuscript has been submitted to Cross & Associates Literary Agency.

Juliet stared. Her heart thumped like she'd just leapt off a cliff. And then the familiar voice in her head: They won't even read it.

She exhaled and shut the laptop.

"Whatever. At least I tried."

She crawled into bed, wrapping herself around a pillow, a mix of hope and dread clinging to her like perfume. Tomorrow, she'd get up, put on her apron, and return to her shift at the cafe. But tonight, she could dream. Just a little.

The morning hit her with the screech of her phone alarm and the faint ache of too little sleep. She rolled out of bed, fed her orange tabby, Ezra, and threw on jeans and a sweater that smelled faintly of cinnamon from the bakery she worked at. The subway ride was a haze of unreadable faces and earbud silence.

At Perk & Crumb, Juliet tied her apron and smiled through customer orders, but her mind kept drifting. Had they opened the email yet? Was it sitting in someone's inbox, forgotten, or worse-deleted? She shook her head and focused on steaming milk.

"Juliet, heads up!" Her co-worker, Drea, nudged her with a grin. "Guy at table four is totally checking you out."

Juliet glanced toward a man in a business suit, but he was just staring at his laptop. She smiled politely and shrugged.

"Doubt it. Probably just waiting for Wi-Fi."