The sun was barely up when Lily walked through the door of the coffee shop the next morning. She'd barely slept, the restless thoughts swirling in her mind since yesterday afternoon. As she set down her bag by the counter and removed her coat, the weight of it all hit her with the force of a tidal wave. Yesterday's conversation—the one with the teenagers—felt like a shadow hanging over her.
She took a deep breath and glanced around the familiar space. The walls, adorned with quirky art and mismatched furniture, usually made her feel at home. The rich scent of freshly ground coffee beans, the low hum of the espresso machine, the soft chatter of regulars—these were the sounds of her day. She loved this place, and yet, today, everything felt different. The room seemed smaller, as if the very air was thick with expectation.
Lily wiped her palms against her apron, trying to shake off the growing heaviness that clung to her. The hum of the coffee shop, the clinking of cups, the frothing of milk—everything that used to soothe her now felt suffocating. She looked around the room again. This was her life now. She had left behind nursing school, dropped the expectations of her family, her friends, everyone who thought they knew what was best for her.
But what if they were right?
The guilt gnawed at her, quiet but insistent. What am I doing here? Her stomach twisted, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her dream had felt so clear once—so bright. She was going to build a life that was hers, free from the weight of others' desires for her. But now? She was still serving coffee, still stuck behind this counter, still unsure of what came next.
Lily had convinced herself she was free, that this job, this place, was part of her journey—a stepping stone. But stepping stone to what? Every cup she served felt like another reminder of how far she'd fallen from the path she thought she was on.
It wasn't just the work, though. It was the feeling that had settled into her chest, the quiet voice in her head that told her she had made a mistake. She wasn't working in a lab or a hospital, saving lives or making an impact. She wasn't creating anything lasting. She was just... serving coffee.
The guilt squeezed tighter, like a hand around her heart. She had dropped the nursing program because it wasn't her, because it was never what she had wanted. But now, with each passing day in this coffee shop, Lily couldn't shake the thought that maybe she had been running from something. Maybe her decision wasn't one of freedom, but of fear. The fear of failure. The fear of not being enough.
She leaned against the counter, letting the steam rise from the milk frother, as if she could hide in the mist. The shop was quiet this morning—only a few regulars scattered around, sipping their drinks in peaceful silence. It felt like everyone was moving forward, and Lily was stuck. The thought stung like cold water splashed against her skin. What did it even mean to follow a dream?
She turned her attention to the door, the familiar bell jingling as it opened, but it was more out of habit than any real hope of distraction. When she saw the young woman standing at the counter, Lily's heart skipped. It was another regular, a student named Maya, who always seemed to be reading some thick novel or scribbling in her notebook.
"Hey, Lily," Maya greeted, smiling warmly. "Could I get my usual? A black coffee, thanks."
Lily nodded, but her hands were slow, her mind elsewhere. As she poured the coffee, she tried to steady herself. Maybe she was just being dramatic. Maybe she needed to let go of the guilt that weighed her down. But no matter how much she tried to focus on the task at hand, her mind kept circling back to the same question: What did I really want?
After she handed Maya the coffee, the young woman paused, studying Lily for a moment with a thoughtful expression. "You okay?" she asked, her voice gentle. "You don't seem like your usual self today."
Lily forced a smile, trying to shrug off the tension that had gathered inside her. "Yeah, just... thinking."
Maya tilted her head, her smile softening. "I get that. I think a lot, too. Sometimes I feel like I'm not sure where I'm headed either. But I've realized it's okay not to have it all figured out. You know? Sometimes it takes time to get where you're meant to be."
The words hit Lily harder than she expected. Maya was young, just starting out, and here she was, talking like she understood. But maybe that was the key—maybe not having everything figured out was part of it. Maybe Lily had been so fixated on a singular vision of her future that she'd forgotten that dreams weren't always linear. They could change, evolve, shift with time and experience.
Lily met Maya's gaze and nodded, the weight on her chest lightening, just a little. Maybe it's okay to not know exactly where I'm going, she thought. Maybe I'm not lost after all.
But as Maya left, Lily couldn't shake the undercurrent of guilt still swirling inside her. It was like a shadow she couldn't outrun, a constant reminder of the expectations she had placed on herself—and the ones the world placed on her, too.
The guilt was a quiet, insidious thing, holding her in place. It was the voice that said she should be doing more, that she should have moved further, faster. It whispered that she wasn't enough, that serving coffee wasn't a real contribution. It pulled her back whenever she took a step forward, always reminding her that there was something better out there waiting for her—if only she could figure out what it was.
Lily felt trapped in that space between the life she thought she was meant to have and the one she was living. She had stepped away from what others expected of her, but now, the guilt of feeling stagnant was holding her in place, keeping her from moving toward anything else.
But in that quiet moment, as the warmth of the coffee shop wrapped around her, she realized something. The guilt isn't going to go away overnight. I can't outrun it. But I don't have to let it define me. She didn't have to have all the answers right now. She didn't have to prove anything to anyone, least of all herself.
With that thought, Lily took a deep breath, straightened her back, and faced the counter once more. The weight was still there, but maybe—just maybe—it didn't have to hold her down forever. She was still figuring it out. And that was okay.