Chapter One: The Worst Day Ever
1562 Words
New York did not care that my life was falling apart.
Not when the subway screamed beneath the streets at midnight.
Not when snow melted into dirty slush beside designer heels.
And definitely not when I got fired over a caramel latte and a man in a six-thousand-dollar coat.
“You embarrassed a customer, Lily.”
I stared at my manager across the café counter, trying very hard not to throw the cash register directly at his forehead.
The café smelled like espresso, cinnamon syrup, and rich people pretending to be humble.
Outside the giant windows, Brooklyn glittered under snowfall and Christmas lights, looking painfully beautiful in the way only New York could.
Inside?
My life was collapsing in real time.
“The customer called me incompetent,” I said flatly.
Mark sighed dramatically. “He’s a regular.”
“He threw coffee at me.”
“He spends money here.”
I blinked slowly.
“Oh, okay,” I said. “So next time someone assaults me, I’ll ask for their credit score first.”
A girl near the corner table snorted into her cappuccino.
Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Push people.”
My jaw tightened.
No.
What I did was refuse to let people treat me badly.
Apparently that made me difficult.
Funny how confidence sounded attractive on rich people and disrespectful on everyone else.
The anger sitting inside me all day finally snapped loose.
Maybe because I was exhausted.
Maybe because my family was drowning in bills.
Or maybe because I was tired of surviving while everyone around me seemed to actually live.
I untied my apron slowly.
“You know what?” I said quietly. “Keep the job.”
Mark looked relieved immediately.
That hurt worse than the firing itself.
I dropped the apron onto the counter and walked out before my pride completely shattered.
The cold air slapped me hard the second I stepped outside.
Snowflakes landed against my cheeks and melted instantly.
Yellow taxis blurred past.
Music echoed faintly from somewhere down the street.
New York kept moving while my chest felt painfully still.
I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and started walking with no destination.
Honestly, I couldn’t afford destinations.
My phone buzzed.
Mom.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
And again.
With a groan, I answered. “What?”
No hello.
No softness.
Just stress waiting on the other side of the line.
“Did the landlord call back?”
Straight to suffering.
I closed my eyes briefly. “Hi, Mom. Nice to hear your voice too.”
“Lily.”
“No.”
“We’re behind this month.”
Guilt hit immediately.
Sharp and familiar.
My family carried stress like oxygen these days.
Dad’s medical bills.
Marcus working double shifts.
My mother pretending everything was fine while quietly panicking every night.
And me?
I was the disappointing daughter with unfinished dreams and unstable jobs.
“I’m trying,” I whispered.
“I know you are.”
But she sounded tired.
That hurt more.
A group of laughing college students brushed past me on the sidewalk, warm and beautiful and careless.
For one second, jealousy punched straight through me.
They looked free.
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt free.
“You’ll find another job,” Mom said softly.
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
But honestly?
I wasn’t sure anymore.
By the time I reached Queens, snow covered my curls and my shoes were soaked through with icy water.
The elevator in our building was broken.
Again.
“Of course it is,” I muttered.
The fourth-floor stairs nearly killed me emotionally.
Our apartment smelled like rice, onions, and my father’s medication.
Home.
Tiny kitchen.
Flickering lights.
Bills stacked everywhere.
A place filled with love and exhaustion.
My older brother Marcus sat at the table surrounded by paperwork.
“You look insane,” he said without looking up.
“Thank you.”
“You got fired?”
I froze halfway through removing my coat.
“How did you know?”
“You only make that face when your life falls apart.”
Fair enough.
I collapsed dramatically onto the couch.
“I hate rich people.”
Marcus laughed under his breath. “That’s unfortunate considering your dream man probably owns a penthouse.”
“My dream man?” I snorted. “Please. Men are stressful.”
“Yet somehow you keep flirting with them.”
“I’m naturally charming.”
“You’re naturally chaotic.”
“That too.”
For the first time all day, I smiled.
Tiny.
Tired.
Real.
Marcus finally looked at me properly, and the teasing faded from his face.
“You okay?”
The question almost broke me.
No one ever asked that gently anymore.
Not really.
And the dangerous thing about kindness was how quickly it could ruin you.
I looked away before emotion embarrassed me.
“I’ll survive.”
People loved romanticizing survival.
Like it was beautiful.
It wasn’t.
Survival was crying quietly in bathrooms so your family wouldn’t hear you.
Survival was pretending your chest didn’t ache from pressure.
Survival was being twenty-four years old and feeling like life had already outrun you.
My father coughed weakly from the bedroom.
Marcus lowered his voice. “Rent’s bad this month.”
I nodded slowly.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough.”
Silence stretched between us.
I hated silence.
Silence gave your thoughts room to breathe.
And my thoughts were rude.
At twenty-four, I thought I’d have something by now.
A career.
An apartment with sunlight.
A life that looked like the girls on i********: who drank expensive coffee and somehow always looked emotionally stable.
Instead, I had anxiety and thirty-eight dollars in my bank account.
“Maybe I should marry rich,” I muttered.
Marcus barked out laughing.
“With your attitude? You’d insult the billionaire before dessert arrived.”
“One hundred percent.”
“That poor man.”
“I’d ruin his emotional stability.”
“You ruin everyone’s emotional stability.”
Honestly?
Accurate.
Later that night, after everyone fell asleep, I sat beside the apartment window wrapped in an old blanket.
Snow drifted quietly over Queens.
The city lights glowed softly in the distance.
New York looked magical from far away.
Like dreams actually came true here.
Mine hadn’t.
Not yet.
I rested my forehead against the cold glass.
Sometimes I wondered if this city swallowed people whole.
Millions of dreamers arrived every year believing they were special.
Most disappeared quietly.
Forgotten.
The thought terrified me.
My phone buzzed beside me.
Ava.
YOU STILL ALIVE?
Barely, I typed back.
Three dots appeared immediately.
DID YOU GET FIRED AGAIN?
Rude.
I typed: Maybe.
She called instantly.
“You are genuinely unbelievable,” Ava said dramatically the second I answered.
“He threw coffee at me!”
“And you probably threatened him.”
“I only called him emotionally constipated.”
Ava burst out laughing so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
“That’s actually iconic.”
“Thank you.”
“But maybe stop insulting rich customers.”
“He deserved it.”
“Lily, one day your mouth is going to destroy your life.”
I stared out at the snowfall quietly.
“Maybe it already did.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than usual.
Ava’s voice softened.
“Hey.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m tired.”
Not physically.
Not completely.
Emotionally tired.
The kind of exhaustion sleep couldn’t fix.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Ava said quietly, “Your life is going to change one day, you know.”
I laughed weakly.
“Sure.”
“No seriously. I feel it.”
“You watch too many romance movies.”
“And you overthink everything.”
Also true.
After we hung up, I sat there for a long time listening to the sounds of New York breathing outside my window.
Sirens.
Distant laughter.
Car horns.
Life continuing.
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was my aunt.
I almost ignored it until I read the message.
I FOUND YOU A JOB.
Immediately, I sat up straighter.
Rich family. Manhattan. Pays extremely well.
My heart skipped once.
Money.
Real money.
The kind of money that could help my family breathe again.
Another message appeared immediately after.
The son is difficult though.
Very difficult.
I frowned.
“What kind of difficult?” I typed back.
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
Tall. Moody. Rich. Annoying. Extremely handsome unfortunately.
I blinked.
Then laughed softly despite myself.
“That sounds dangerous,” I typed.
Her reply came instantly.
Exactly.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary.
Something strange twisted low in my stomach.
Curiosity.
Nervousness.
Something else I couldn’t explain.
Outside my window, snow continued falling endlessly over the city.
Beautiful.
Lonely.
Cold.
I didn’t know then that one meeting was about to split my life into before and after.
Before Ethan Blackwood.
And after him.
At the time, he was just a stranger.
A difficult stranger hidden somewhere inside Manhattan luxury and silence.
I had no idea he would become the most important person I had ever met.
Or that loving him would eventually break my heart in ways I never thought possible.
- Writer
