💜ACCIDENTALLY HIS💜

Snow was falling like glass. Sharp. Fast. Relentless. And right in the middle of the storm… Mira was standing alone outside JFK Airport, shivering so badly it looked like her bones were rattling. Her backpack was soaked. Her hair stuck to her face. Her lips were turning blue. People rushed past her warm coats, rolling suitcases, holiday excitement. But Mira looked like a glitch in the scene. Like someone who didn’t belong to this country, or this airport, or even this weather. A security guard shouted behind her, “Miss, you can’t stand here!” But Mira didn’t move. She was staring at her phone screen. Battery: 2% Wallet balance: $7.14 Accommodation: None Emergency contact: No one she could call. Her chest tightened. The kind of tightness you feel right before something breaks. She whispered to herself, voice shaking, “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Not here.” But her eyes were already wet .. not from emotion, but from the icy wind slapping her face. Her flight from Turkey had landed only thirty minutes ago. But her reality? That had landed a long time ago. A man bumped into her shoulder and muttered, “Watch it.” Mira blinked fast. She wasn’t even standing in his way. A bus drove by splashing slush water all over her shoes. Now they were wet too. Perfect. Just perfect. Her breath fogged in the air. Her heartbeat hammered. She felt sick .. the kind of sick you get when you know you’ve made a choice you can’t undo. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her passport the one she had secretly made in Turkey, hidden under her mattress for months. Her fingers touched the cold cover. She swallowed. This… This little book was the only reason she wasn’t married off by now. The only reason she wasn’t trapped in a life she didn’t choose. The only reason she was standing here with nothing but a backpack and desperation. A woman in a red coat stopped near her and asked kindly, “Sweetheart, are you waiting for someone?” Mira shook her head slowly. The woman’s smile faded. “Oh… are you alone?” Mira nodded. The woman hesitated, then walked away. Mira watched her leave through blurry eyes. She turned to the doors of the airport again warm lights, safe walls, people with destinations. She had none. No plan. No bed. No job. No idea it was holiday season — meaning everything was full, everyone was booked, and every job was unavailable. Suddenly, a gust of wind hit her hard, and her phone slipped from her hand onto the sidewalk. She scrambled to pick it up — screen cracked, battery dead. That was it. That tiny sound …crack felt like the sound of her last bit of hope snapping. Mira pressed her hands to her face, trying to breathe. The snow kept falling. The night kept getting colder. And somewhere in the city in a penthouse she didn’t know existed a man who didn’t want anyone around was about to become the only person who would take her in. But right now? Right now she was just a frozen girl with a broken phone, seven dollars, and no ticket home.