One Night Stand In

ChapterOne(a)

The alarm buzzed at six-thirty, far too shrill for Lena’s liking. She groaned, rolled over, and silenced it with a firm slap before lying still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Another weekday. Another morning routine. She could already hear the faint creak of floorboards in the hallway, her grandmother was up, no doubt shuffling toward the kitchen to put the kettle on. Nana was like clockwork, steady as the sunrise, even at seventy-three.

“Mama, it’s morning!”

The small voice broke through her fog, followed by the thud of hurried little feet. Lena barely had time to sit up before Mira bounded into the room in her pajamas, curls bouncing, holding one sock in her hand like a prize she’d fought to the death.

“Morning, baby,” Lena said, catching her daughter mid-leap and pulling her close. Mira giggled, wriggling free, then planted the sock on her mother’s lap with the seriousness of a messenger delivering a royal decree.

“I found it under the couch. Nana said I should bring it before I lose it again.”

“You probably will,” Lena teased, tucking a loose curl behind Mira’s ear. “Alright, soldier. Let’s get dressed. We’ve got twenty minutes before we’re late.”

Getting Mira ready was a full mission. Pajamas off, shirt half on, then distracted by her stuffed rabbit on the bed, then back again to the shirt. Socks mismatched. Shoes hidden under the armchair. Lena was halfway through tying her daughter’s hair into two neat puffs when Nana appeared in the doorway, teacup in hand, dressed in her usual housecoat.

“You’re running late again,” Nana said, her eyes twinkling despite her tone.

“We’re not late yet,” Lena countered, looping the elastic over Mira’s second puff. “And if you’d help instead of standing there with your tea-”

“I’ve already helped. I ironed the uniform last night. If I leave you two to it, maybe you’ll learn to prepare on time.”

“Nana!” Mira giggled, clearly siding with her great-grandmother.

Lena shook her head, fighting back a smile. This was how most mornings went, light chaos, Nana offering commentary, Mira bouncing between them both with boundless energy. It was exhausting and grounding all at once.

By the time they were out the door, Lena had her work bag slung over one shoulder and Mira’s lunchbox in the other hand. Her grandmother waved them off from the porch, calling out, “Drive safe, and don’t forget your umbrella. The forecast said rain again.”

“Yes, Nana,” Lena replied automatically, buckling Mira into the back seat of their modest sedan.

The drive to school was a short fifteen minutes, traffic willing. Mira filled the silence with chatter, about a drawing she wanted to show her teacher, about a song she’d been learning, about how Nana promised to make pancakes on Saturday. Lena listened, occasionally interjecting with a question or an amused hum. These car rides were one of her favorite parts of the day, even when she was tired.

When they pulled up in front of the small brick school, the morning rush was already underway. Children with brightly colored backpacks spilled from cars, some running toward the entrance, others clinging to parents’ hands.

Lena parked, unbuckled Mira, and walked her to the door. The familiar figure of Ms. Rivera, Mira’s teacher, was waiting just inside, greeting students with her usual warmth.

“Good morning, Lena,” Ms. Rivera said with a smile. She crouched down to Mira’s level. “And good morning, Mira. Did you remember the storybook for today’s reading circle?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Mira pulled a slim book from her backpack and handed it over like it was treasure. “It’s about a princess who saves herself.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear it.” Ms. Rivera winked before glancing up at Lena. “She’s been so excited about sharing this all week.”

Lena returned the smile, feeling a swell of pride. “That’s my girl.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her,” Ms. Rivera added. “She’s a natural leader in class. Keeps us on our toes.”

Lena laughed softly. “Tell me about it. She keeps me on mine every day.”

Mira, already halfway inside, turned back and waved. “Bye, Mommy! Don’t be late at work!”

Lena waved back, heart tugging as it always did. No matter how routine the goodbye became, it still left her with that ache, the constant reminder of why she worked so hard.

She lingered a moment before heading back to the car. Work waited, and with it, a different version of herself, the professional Lena who smiled through meetings and deadlines while her mind often wandered back to the little girl she’d just dropped off.

#######

By the time Lena pulled into the staff parking lot, the city had fully awakened. The sidewalks were crowded with commuters clutching coffee cups, delivery trucks idled in front of storefronts, and the faint hum of traffic filled the air. Manhattan had its way of demanding everyone keep pace or get swallowed whole. Lena had learned to adapt, structured mornings, tight schedules, always moving.

Her office was on the eighth floor of a mid-rise downtown. She worked as a junior marketing associate at a firm that catered mostly to mid-level businesses. Not glamorous, but steady. It paid the bills, covered Mira’s tuition, and left just enough for groceries and Nana’s medical needs. Security, Lena reminded herself every day, was its own kind of blessing.

She stepped into the elevator, juggling her bag and coffee, and exhaled when the doors slid shut. A few floors later, they opened to reveal a tall figure leaning against the opposite wall with his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“Morning, stranger,” Paul said, slipping in before the doors closed again. His tie was slightly askew, as usual, and his expression carried that familiar blend of charm and mischief.

Lena raised a brow. “You’re late.”

“I prefer to think of it as fashionably timed,” he countered. “Besides, I saw you pulling in, so I can’t be that late if we’re walking in together.”

She shook her head but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. Paul had been in her life for as long as she could remember. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood, shared countless afternoons of scraped knees and makeshift adventures, and even now, years later, working in the same field, his presence remained constant.

When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, they stepped out side by side.

“You free for lunch today?” Paul asked, keeping pace with her. “There’s a new food truck around the corner I’ve been dying to try. They have these empanadas that-”

“I brought leftovers,” Lena cut in. “Pasta. Besides, you’re supposed to be on a budget, remember?”

“Budgets are flexible. Besides, what kind of friend lets her colleague eat bad cafeteria food alone?”

“The kind of friend who has a child’s tuition to pay and a grandmother to feed.”

“Fair enough.” He pressed a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “One day you’ll let me treat you. Then we’ll call it even.”