Snack Haven.
The glowing sign beamed in front of me as Aaron pushed the glass door open and gestured for me to step in first. The soft scent of sugar and coffee wrapped around us immediately. Warm lights. Wooden tables. Soft music playing somewhere in the background.
It felt safe.
Comfortable.
Normal.
Aaron clearly knew the place. One of the waitresses smiled at him like she recognized him, and he gave a small nod in return. I noticed that.
We sat by the window. The city moved outside — loud, busy, alive — while inside everything felt calm and slowed down.
We ordered milkshakes, fries, and something chocolate I didn't even look at properly before agreeing.
Then silence.
Not the heavy kind.
But not entirely comfortable either.
"This place is beautiful," I said, cutting through it. "Do you visit here often?"
He glanced around casually. "Not really. But when I do, their snacks are a solid ten."
He took a bite, clearly enjoying it. The way he chewed was neat, controlled. No mess. No rush. Even eating, he was composed.
"So… when do you plan to return?" I asked, stirring my juice slowly.
He looked at me, eyebrow slightly raised.
"Someone wants me to leave already?" he teased, smiling faintly.
"No— not really," I said quickly. "I just meant… how long are you staying here?"
He leaned back slightly.
"Let's just say," he said playfully, "I love your city."
I studied him for a second. That wasn't an answer. But I didn't press further. He didn't seem ready to give me anything deeper.
Then he interrupted.
"And you?"
"Me what?" I blurted.
"You were saying something earlier."
"Oh— yes."
He continued eating, eyes on me now. Watching. Listening.
"Elena offered me a job at the company."
His hand paused mid-air. He slowly placed the fries back on his plate. That caught my attention.
He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth neatly before speaking.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," I shrugged. "I told her I'd think about it."
He leaned forward slightly now. No teasing expression. No playful tone.
"Why wouldn't you accept?"
I hesitated.
"Is there any reason you don't want to?"
"Not really," I lied. "I've just never worked at such a big company before."
He didn't look convinced.
"I really think you should accept it, Lys."
The way he said my name — softer this time — made something shift in my chest.
"Unless," he added carefully, "there's something keeping you from it."
I avoided his eyes and sipped my juice instead.
"It's a huge opportunity," he continued. "People dream of that kind of offer."
"I know," I said quickly. "I know, but—"
"But nothing," he cut in gently.
I looked at him.
"Take this from me," he said, his tone shifting slightly. "Not as a friend. As a therapist. This will do you good."
I rolled my eyes lightly.
"Here we go again, Mr. Therapist."
He smiled. But there was something serious underneath it.
"Structure is good for you," he added. "Routine. Responsibility. It'll ground you."
Ground me.
Was I that unstable? Or was he right? Maybe I needed something outside the house.
Outside my thoughts.
A flicker of unease ran through me.
For a moment, I thought I saw a shadow in the corner of the café, a figure just beyond the counter, watching. My pulse quickened. I shook my head. It's nothing. Just nerves. Overthinking again.
But even as I tried to ignore it, a voice whispered in my chest — sharp, certain, almost like memory rather than thought:
"Be careful… or you will be stripped of what is yours once more".
I blinked. No one was there. The light shimmered off the wooden tables. Aaron laughed at something I hadn't heard. My heartbeat slowed.
I tried to push it away, tell myself it was imagination. Yet the warning lingered, hovering like a shadow at the edges of my mind. It didn't feel like fear. It felt like… recognition. Like I should already know.
We finished eating slowly after that. The conversation drifted to lighter topics — random city gossip, ridiculous street performers we had seen before, strange subway encounters.
And then he suggested something unexpected.
"Show me around."
"Now?"
"Yes. Before I forget what your city looks like."
So we left Snack Haven and got into his car.
We drove.
No destination.
Just streets and lights and noise.
New York in the afternoon was alive — horns, crowds, sunlight reflecting off glass buildings. I rolled the window down and let the air hit my face.
I laughed.
Really laughed.
At nothing.
At everything.
Aaron said something about a man chasing pigeons in a park, and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
For a moment… everything felt light.
No Victor.
No Elena.
No headlines.
Just movement and air and sound.
Maybe this was what normal people felt like.
By the time he dropped me off in the evening, the sky had shifted into soft orange and fading blue.
"I didn't realize how much time we wasted," I said as I stepped out.
"Time enjoyed is never wasted," he replied.
He reminded me again about the job.
"Think seriously about it."
I nodded.
"I will."
We said goodbye.
And just like that, the lightness faded as I stepped into the house…
Elena was on the couch when I walked in.
Phone pressed to her ear.
Her voice was sharp.
She dropped the call the moment she saw me.
"How are you doing now?" I asked, walking toward her.
"Well," she replied stiffly, "I'm waiting for Victor to return."
She didn't ask where I had been.
Didn't ask who I was with, I was relieved, it was unlike her.
Just Victor.
"You worry too much," I said casually.
She snapped.
"Who wouldn't worry when they're on the news headlines?"
"Oh," I muttered lightly, trying to brush it off. "You seem to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed."
I turned toward the stairs.
"Alyssa."
Her voice cut sharply through the room.
I paused and took one step back.
I turned slowly.
She looked calmer now.
"How are you doing with therapy?" she asked.
As if she hadn't just snapped seconds ago.
"Fine," I replied. "Just fine."
She stood and walked toward me.
Her movements were slow.
"Good," she said softly, reaching for my hands.
Her hands were warm.
Too warm.
She held them tightly and stared at me — searching my face like she was trying to find cracks.
"Take it seriously, dear sister," she said.
Her tone was gentle.
But the words weren't.
"We don't want you losing control again."
The sentence hit harder than she probably intended.
I pulled my hands back slightly.
"Why would you say that?" I asked, hurt slipping into my voice before I could hide it.
She tightened her grip briefly.
"Didn't you see the news?" she said. "People are cruel. You might get harassed. I just want you on your best behavior."
"Best behavior"?
Like I was the liability.
Like I was the unstable one.
"Of course I wouldn't embarrass you," I blurted, anger rising in my throat.
"That's not what I—"
But I didn't let her finish.
I pulled free this time.
"I'm not some ticking time bomb, Elena."
She stared at me.
Silence stretched between us.
For a second, I saw something flash in her eyes.
Fear?
Something else?
"I just want you protected," she said finally.
"From what?" I asked.
"From yourself," she replied quietly.
That hurt more than anything else.
Without another word, I turned and ran upstairs.
My chest felt tight.
My room suddenly felt smaller.
I closed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
From yourself?
Was that what everyone thought?
Victor.
Elena.
My mother.
Even Aaron, maybe.
That I was one emotional breakdown away from disaster.
I walked toward my mirror slowly.
Stared at myself again.
The same face from this morning.
The same eyes.
But now they looked different.
Angrier.
More confused.
I needed to prove something
Prove I wasn't fragile.
Prove I wasn't unstable.
Prove I wasn't the family embarrassment waiting to happen.
Aaron's words echoed in my head.
This will do you good.
Elena's words echoed louder.
We don't want you losing control again.
I bit my fingers this time.
I wasn't crazy.
I wasn't unstable.
I wasn't weak.
Right?
I stared at my reflection, my eyes searching, but not really finding anything. The girl staring back at me looked tired. Frightened. Hollow in some places, desperate in others. I didn't know who she was anymore.
I had to… I had to stop this. Stop letting everything happen to me. Stop letting everyone—Victor, Elena, even myself—decide what I could or couldn't be.
My chest felt tight. What if I couldn't? What if I froze like I always did?
And still… I couldn't stop thinking about it. About the job. Elena's offer. Something in me wanted it, even though my stomach twisted at the thought.
I swallowed hard. My throat was dry. "I… I'll take it," I whispered, though my voice trembled. It sounded smaller than I wanted it to.
I shook my head, stepping closer to the mirror. "No," I muttered. "Maybe I shouldn't… maybe I'm too scared…" My fingers traced the glass like it could give me answers.
But the words were already out. "I'll… I'll try," I added, more to convince myself than anyone else.
I let out a shaky breath and ran my hands through my hair. God, why did this feel like the hardest thing in the world? Why couldn't I just… just do things without overthinking every second?
I didn't feel brave. I didn't feel strong. But something in my chest shifted, just a little. A spark, maybe. A tiny push forward.
And then I finally made a decision.
" I'd take that job "!.