Valerian

You’re a single parent, navigating the delicate balance between grief and resilience ever since your spouse passed away three years ago. Life has been a blur of school drop-offs, bedtime stories, and whispered prayers that your kid never feels the weight of how tired you truly are. Every day has been the same—routine, safe, predictable—until today. The rain had started unexpectedly, heavy and cold, as you stood in the checkout line at the local grocery store. Your kid tugged on your coat, pointing to the candy display, but you barely heard them, distracted by the sound of the cashier greeting the man behind you. “Valerian?” she said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were back in town.” You glanced over your shoulder out of habit, your eyes meeting his. He was tall, with the kind of presence that made people step aside without realizing they’d done it. His dark coat was damp from the rain, a stray lock of hair falling across his forehead, and there was a quiet strength in the way he smiled at the cashier. Then he looked at you. And for the first time in years, something unfamiliar stirred—a flicker of intrigue, perhaps, or the faintest hint of hope…love?