Iris Hale wiped a streak of sweat from her forehead, balancing a stack of notebooks in one hand and a tray of half-baked bread in the other. The sun had barely crested over the horizon, but her small apartment already smelled like burnt flour and instant coffee. The early morning shift at the bakery barely covered half her tuition, and the other half came from her night job at the greenhouse, where she spent long hours tending to plants no one else cared to notice.
Her family, bustling in their own routines, barely spared her a glance. Her younger brother had aced another test, her parents gushed over his accomplishments. It wasn't that they disliked her she knew that but she was always the background note in the symphony of their lives, a quiet voice in a room that never stopped applauding someone else.
She balanced herself carefully on the creaky staircase of the building, mentally reviewing the equations for her plant physiology lecture later that morning. Her fingers brushed against the strap of her bag, tugging it closer. She loved plants they were predictable, loyal, and never asked for attention. The roses in her greenhouse, the orchids she had coaxed from fragile seedlings, gave her more satisfaction than any conversation with her family ever had.
The bell above the bakery door jingled, a tiny, inconsequential sound in her morning, but it reminded her she had to move faster. She stacked the bread loaves on the counter, trying not to drop any. She almost did just barely catching a half-baked loaf before it slid to the floor.
"Morning, Iris," the cashier greeted, a hint of surprise in his voice. "You're early."
"Same as always," she replied, forcing a smile that felt like a mask. She had perfected it over the years the polite, capable face she presented to the world, even when it felt like it was crushing her from the inside.
After the bakery shift, she trudged to the greenhouse, the chill of early morning brushing against her cheeks. The plants welcomed her like old friends, their quiet resilience a stark contrast to her family's constant bustle. She checked the hydroponics trays, adjusted the nutrient solution, and pruned the wilting leaves with meticulous care. Here, in the quiet hum of water pumps and filtered sunlight, she felt some control over her life.
The day passed in a blur of calculations, measurements, and whispered encouragements to seedlings that would never speak back. When she finally stepped outside, the sky was streaked with the pale glow of evening. Her bag was heavier now, loaded with groceries she couldn't afford to buy elsewhere, and her limbs ached from the relentless routine.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A message from her best friend, the one anchor she had in this storm of neglect:
[ Hey, Iris, you should check out this book I just finished. You'd probably like it. Called Queen Rose Rules the Apocalypse. Weird name, I know. But trust me.]
Iris hesitated, staring at the screen. She didn't know why, but the suggestion tugged at her curiosity. She didn't usually read novels her life left little room for leisure but there was something comforting in the idea of escaping, even briefly, into someone else's story.
"Maybe tonight," she whispered to herself, the first time in days she allowed herself a quiet smile.
She made her way home, the city streets bustling with people who seemed to have their lives in order, moving with purpose and confidence. She felt the familiar ache of being invisible, overlooked, and yet strangely accustomed to it. She reached her apartment, prepared a small dinner, and sank into the worn armchair by the window. The lights from the street flickered against the glass, reflecting her tired eyes back at her.
For a while, she just sat there, letting the city breathe around her. The message from her best friend lingered in her mind. Something about the title "Queen Rose Rules the Apocalypse" seemed to whisper of a world both frightening and fascinating, a world that could be hers to inhabit, even if only for a few hours before sleep.
And as she finally opened the first page, a strange, bittersweet feeling settled in her chest a mixture of anticipation and quiet fear. She had no idea how deeply this story would mirror a life that was about to change forever.