Her Legend

The scream was sharp, cutting through the dark like a jagged blade. Sophia jolted upright, breath ragged, chest heaving. Sweat glued her tank top to her skin as her eyes scanned the dim room, searching for shadows that didn’t belong. Just the lamp. The tiny desk. The small shelf of used books. Her hand flew to her neck. Still here. Still safe. She reached for the journal by her pillow, the cover bent and the spine nearly split. A pen dropped from between the pages. Her hands trembled as she scribbled blindly: "I’m not there anymore. I’m here. I’m safe. I’m real.” The words steadied her. Not much. But enough. Her legs swung over the bed. Floor cold. Clock blinking: 4:12 a.m. She didn’t go back to sleep. A cracked teacup. A scream that wasn’t hers. Blood on the tiles—then silence. Always silence. By 6:00 a.m., the city had begun to hum outside her apartment window. The sirens were distant. She lived in the part of town where no one willingly wanted to stay, where the people there were either defected or just outright poor and could not even afford to dream of a better life because they knew that there was no point in hoping for something that wouldn't happen. The horns coming from outside her window were half-hearted, as the world hadn’t yet decided what mood to wear. Sophia moved silently through her routine: brushing, dressing, tying her laces... She pulled on her faded gray hoodie and tucked a stray strand of hair under the cap. Her mirror offered a quick glimpse of her face: plain, pale, tired. That was fine. She didn’t need to look like anything else. The necklace, a small bronze key on a chain rested against her collarbone. She hesitated, then tucked it beneath her shirt. Out of sight. But never out of mind. The cafe smelled like cinnamon and safety. It was tucked on a corner of a quieter street, away from the steel and glass monsters that made up most of the city. The sign above the door read "Violet & Oak" in cursive, a faded lilac font that matched the cozy chairs and mismatched mugs inside. Sophia unlocked the side door and stepped in. The place was empty, lights still off. She turned them on one by one, like waking up something that slept with its eyes open. The hum of machines returning to life was oddly soothing. By 7:00 a.m., her apron was on, the pastries were in the display case, and the espresso machine was hissing. Her coworker, Janey, would arrive soon, all bright chatter and clattering bracelets. Sophia didn’t mind her. Janey was kind in the way of people who didn’t ask questions. The bell above the door jingled. Sophia glanced up from behind the counter. He was early. Same time every day usually 7:15. But today, 7:03. The boy no, young man strolled in with a kind of energy that didn’t match the hour. His happiness bounced off the walls, making Sophia wonder if he always woke up so cheerful. Tall, but not intimidating. Tousled brown hair. Hoodie that said NASA but looked like it had never seen the stars. And on his wrist, a delicate bracelet of pink and purple charms. It clashed entirely with his look. And yet, it was the most genuine thing about him. *When he walked in, the air shifted—citrus and something sharp. A scent she couldn’t name, but her chest clenched anyway.* "Why would someone like him wear something like that? A dare? A gift? A reminder?" she always thought. Something about it made her chest tighten. It should’ve looked ridiculous pink hearts, purple beads but it didn’t. It looked like grief dressed in color. A secret on his wrist. He smiled at her like they were old friends. “Morning, Coffee Queen,” he said. Sophia didn’t respond right away. She adjusted her cap and looked down at the register. “Same as always?” she asked, voice flat. “Yep. Black coffee. One of those muffin things that look like they’ve been through a world war but are surprisingly so good." She grabbed the blueberry muffin slightly lopsided and started pouring the coffee. He leaned on the counter casually. “You look like you’ve memorized the whole menu. That’s impressive. Or dangerous.” Sophia blinked at him. “Or both,” she said softly. He laughed not loudly, but warmly. “Touché. I’m Alex, by the way. Not that you asked.” She handed him the coffee and muffin. “No receipt?” She shook her head. “Keeping it mysterious. I like it,” he said, taking his tray. As he turned, the bracelet on his wrist caught the light. A glint of charm a tiny pink heart sparked before disappearing under his sleeve. It didn’t match his smile. But maybe it matched the part of him he didn’t show. The rest of her shift passed in a blur of drinks, dishes, and meaningless conversation she only half-heard. Janey arrived, bouncing in with a fresh energy Sophia couldn’t match. "Seriously, do these people all wake up smiling like this?" Sophia wondered. She let Janey take over the register and retreated to the back to wipe down the already-clean tables. She glanced at the clock. 7:46 a.m. Alex hadn’t stayed long. Just ten minutes maybe. But she kept seeing that bracelet in her mind, dancing at the edge of his sleeve. It didn’t fit his smile. Or maybe it did, and she just didn’t understand why yet. By the time she made it home that night, her shoulders ached and her head pulsed with a dull, familiar throb. She dropped her bag, peeled off her hoodie, and collapsed onto the bed. Her hand found the journal again. She opened to a fresh page. "He smiled like I wasn’t broken. That scares me more than if he’d ignored me. Or stared. Or looked through me like most do. He just… smiled. Why does that feel like a threat?" She stared at the page. The air in the room felt too still. She flipped back a few entries until she found the one she was looking for. Rule #1: Don’t trust kind eyes. They always want something. Her hand hovered over the page for a long time, but her mind kept drifting back to his stormy but somehow kind eyes. The next morning, he was there again. Same drink. Same muffin. Same charm bracelet, catching the sun like it belonged there. And this time, he didn’t say anything clever. He just smiled and said, “Glad you’re here.” She didn’t smile back. But she didn’t look away either. She had taken the next day off. She had a job interview at a big corporate office in the city. Something she wasn't sure she even wanted, but she wanted to live a better life. Something about the day felt... different. She had talked to Joe, her boss the kind old man who owned the place. He was the only one that was kind enough to take her in, even when she obviously lacked the experience. He believed there’s always good in people, which Sophia didn’t think but didn’t voice her opinion. She also appreciated the fact that he didn’t ask questions. He gave her the day off. But something still felt off. Alex didn’t show up. No tousled hair. No bracelet catching the morning sun. No smile. And she hated the fact that she noticed. She hated that she cared. She kept telling herself you don’t know him, but her mind didn’t listen. Angrily, she flipped open her journal and glared at the inked words: Rule #1: Don’t trust kind eyes. Maybe it was time to break one. Or at least rattle the silence enough to see what spilled out.