Amara watched in silence, the soft hum of the dryer filling the room.
He watched her through the mirror, calm but curious, like someone trying to read a language he didn't speak.
"You've got a nice place". he said finally.
She smiled faintly. " Thanks. Built it from nothing but prayer and tired hands".
He chuckled.. low and genuine.
"That's the best kind of story".
Amara didn't answer. Compliments made her uneasy, she never knew what to do with them. But something in his voice felt steady and safe.
"What's your name?" She asked, pretending to check her comb.
"Ethan" he said. "And you're Amara, right? I saw your name on the sign outside".
Her hands paused midair.
"Yeah", she said quietly. "That's me".
For a moment, their eyes met in the mirror .. two strangers, both carrying stories they weren't ready to tell.