The Lantern's Hue

The rain tapping gently against the windows of The Lantern’s Hue, the kind of steady drizzle that made the café feel like the last warm place on earth with its alluring music. Erin is wiping down the counter. Across the room, an elderly woman is seated by the window, her knitting needles making a clicking sound that’s echoing through the café rhythmically. A copy of The Midnight Library sitting beside her teacup.

I hesitated before picking up the teacup and gently asking the woman, "Would you like a refill?"

The woman looked up, "Oh, that’s so kind of you, dear. Please do."

I glance at the book that the woman was reading earlier, "Oh that book…It’s one of my favorites."

"Really?" Her eyes crinkling at the edges. She set her knitting aside.

I smiled, "Yeah. I like the idea how Nora get to see the paths she didn’t take. It’s kind of like checking the answers in the back of a book."

The woman chuckled, “Yes.” Then tapped over the cover, “This book,” She paused a bit then said, “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? All the lives we could’ve lived. The different versions of ourselves that we never got to see.”

My fingers tightened around the teacup. The sudden thought of the book Before the Coffee Gets Cold came to the mind, the way time seems to stop in that Tokyo café, the way people went to sit in that one specific seat to revisit their regrets. But Erin didn’t bring it up. Instead asked, “Did you ever wish to see the other versions of yours?”

The woman chuckled again, “Oh, who doesn’t? But the real question is—would I be happier then? There’s always ‘what if I had taken different options’ in life. We all just dwell on this question wasting our present time.”

'But what if you could go back? Would you do the same thing?'--- I don’t know why but this question popped in my head which was left unasked.

I just gently smiled at her. She left when it stopped raining outside after paying her bill.

I’ve been thinking about that question. What about me? What were my dreams? What if I had taken different path?

I still remember when I was five, I wanted to be a pianist. I had seen a girl playing on television, fingers dancing on the keys, her eyes were closed as if she was feeling the music. The whole thing seemed like magic. But I didn’t have a piano. Not even a keyboard. I hummed music to myself, used my desk as keys as I tapped my fingers on it. Eventually, I stopped pretending to play music.

My gaze then shifted to the small watercolor hanging behind the counter—a painting of mountains that I’d painted at sixteen. I still remembered my father’s face when I showed him the painting, how his smile had faltered when he said, "It’s a good hobby, Eri. But you should focus on your studies to have a bright future ahead." The word ‘hobby’ had felt like a rock on my chest.

Then in high school, I wanted to be a fashion designer. I sketched dresses and dreamed of having my own modest fashion line. I even thought of a name ‘Eri’s Boutique’. But then university came with academic pressure and I barely had time for myself. I studied English literature. I even tutored students back then for income source. And liked the idea of standing in front of a classroom, teaching Shakespeare to kids who couldn’t care less. It wasn’t glamorous, but I thought teaching profession might fit me well. I should pursue this as my career and it would even keep me feel alive like I actually exist as I liked the sound of my own voice when I believed in what I was saying.

And then... he came.

Adam.

Even now, years later, the memory stings.

I was twenty-five by then. He was charming, caring, ambitious and the kind of man that made me feel like I could be more than myself. Maybe for a while, I actually believed it. I was happy back then and used to wear brighter colors, laughed louder, talked a lot tried to fit in the category of woman he liked. I did all... until it made me completely silent.

The questions started.

"Why don’t you do what you want?

Why do you let your family decide things for you?

Don’t you want to be free? You are just like a bird that is caged."

I had tried to explain—that freedom wasn’t always about rebellion. That love for my family wasn’t a cage. And that as a woman I had to balance my life. I have got my family to look after and make them happy even if it hurts. Because I believed my family just want what’s good for me. And I would do the same for you. After marriage, I would try my best to do everything to make you happy…because you would be my family then. That was my perspective. That’s how I thought. I liked putting everyone before me…and maybe that was my fault.

He hadn’t understood me. Or maybe he did… he just wanted to see me shine? But do I even want that?

“I just want you to be more… visible,” he’d said frustrated.

“I am visible,” I’d replied. “You’re just not looking at the right parts of me, Adam.”

The breakup had been quiet. No shouting, no dramatic exits. Just a mutual understanding that it won’t work.

Okay I lied in that part. I tried. I tried to be understanding. I tried to be mature and not to cry over it… but after a week passed, I cried my eyes out. I started to feel suffocated.

Afterward, I moved to this small town, opened this café and let the quiet settle over me.

--And now? Am I happy?

I don’t know that for sure but---

When I look around—and see my cat, Elly dozing in a sunbeam, look at the book shelves, smell the freshly brewed coffee...I just say to myself, "It’s not what I imagined. But… it’s mine after all."

It’s Peaceful. I wake up early. I brew fresh coffee. I read books. I dust the shelves. I feed my loving cat Elly. I talk to people who comes to my café about books. I smile. I write journal that’s only mine to read.

I’ve come to realize that I lived a hundred lives in this one. A live filled with decisions, quiet grieves and brief joys.

That old woman at the window said a line from the book The Midnight Library before leaving:

“We don’t have to do everything to mean something.”

I think about that line often. Because maybe I never became a pianist, or an artist, or a teacher... maybe I didn’t get married, or impress anyone at family gatherings…I maybe even disappoint people sometimes….

But I have created something where strangers come to rest after a long day of work and smiled while sipping their coffee with “Ah—now that’s what I needed.”

That’s it..that alone makes me happy. Creating a space for people to have a quiet moment detached from everything else.

Tonight, the café was empty by seven. Outside, the rain is pouring.

I turned off the lights, poured a cup of rose tea for myself and sat by the window.

Elly scrambled up into my lap. I began to stroke her fur and hum along to the beats of the rain.

There are so many versions of me I never got to see. But I think this version is not the worst one to be in.

And who knows? Maybe I’ll still paint. Maybe I’ll teach again if opportunities come. Maybe love will find me differently this time. But what matters most now is my own peace.

For now, I have my warm cup of tea, an affectionate black cat, and shelves upon shelves full of books to dive into is more than enough to keep me company.

And without a doubt, right now, in this very moment—I feel like I’m finally home.

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