Chapter one
943 Words
__The Girl Who Knew Better Than to Believe in Coincidences**
~Laluna’s POV
The bell above the pharmacy door chimed for the seventeenth time that morning.
Laluna Navarro looked up from the prescription she was labeling and smiled politely.
"Good morning. How can I help you?"
An elderly woman shuffled toward the counter with a cloth bag tucked beneath her arm.
"My knees are declaring war against me again."
Laluna laughed softly.
"Then we'll negotiate a peace treaty."
The woman's weathered face brightened.
"I always leave here smiling."
"I'll consider that part of the treatment."
The old woman chuckled as Laluna disappeared into the aisle.
She reached for the familiar bottle of anti-inflammatory tablets, but her hand paused.
A prickling sensation crawled across the back of her neck.
She frowned.
Not again.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Nothing.
Only rows of neatly arranged medicine, fluorescent lights, and her co-worker, Eva, trying—and failing—to untangle the receipt printer.
Laluna exhaled.
You're imagining things.
She hated when her instincts disagreed.
Her grandmother used to say that uneasy feeling wasn't anxiety.
It was magic listening before her ears could.
Laluna had stopped believing that years ago.
Mostly.
She returned to the counter and placed the medicine inside a paper bag.
"There you go."
The woman smiled.
"You have kind hands."
Laluna blinked.
"What?"
"You always know exactly what people need."
The words settled strangely in her chest.
She forced a smile.
"I just read the prescription."
"No."
The woman shook her head.
"I don't think that's all you do."
Before Laluna could answer, the automatic doors slid open again.
Cold air drifted inside.
A man entered.
He couldn't have been much older than twenty-five.
Tall,Dark hair,Navy blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He wasn't dressed to impress anyone.
Yet somehow...
He did.
He looked around the pharmacy with quiet confidence before walking toward the counter.
Laluna straightened.
"Good morning."
He nodded once.
"I need something for a headache."
"Any allergies?"
"No."
"Have you taken anything today?"
"No."
She reached for a box from the shelf.
As she handed it over, their fingers brushed.
A tiny spark danced across her skin.
She pulled her hand back.
Too quickly.
The man noticed.
"You okay?"
"Static."
She cleared her throat.
"Dry weather."
He glanced toward the rain pouring outside.
"...Right."
Heat crept into her cheeks.
He placed the medicine on the counter.
"How much?"
She scanned it.
"Twelve euros."
He handed her a twenty.
While searching for change, Laluna noticed something odd.
His pulse.
She couldn't hear it.
Not unusual.
Except...
For some reason...
She had tried.
Her grandmother had warned her about that too.
"Never listen for someone's heartbeat unless you're prepared to hear their truth."
She'd never understood what that meant.
She still didn't.
The register beeped.
She handed him the receipt.
"Have a nice day."
"You too."
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
Without looking back, he asked,
"Do we know each other?"
Laluna frowned.
"I don't think so."
"It feels like we've met."
Her stomach tightened.
"No."
He nodded slowly.
"Must be mistaken."
The bell chimed as he walked out.
Laluna watched the rain swallow him.
Eva appeared beside her.
"He's cute."
Laluna rolled her eyes.
"You say that about everyone."
"I absolutely do not."
"You called the delivery driver cute."
"He was."
"The seventy-year-old delivery driver….?!"
Eva shrugged.
"Age is just a number."
Laluna laughed despite herself.
Then she looked toward the window again.
The man had disappeared.
Strange.
She could have sworn he'd still been standing there.
That evening, Madrid glowed beneath a blanket of rain.
Laluna pulled her hood over her head as she hurried through the narrow streets toward the apartment building she'd called home since childhood.
Old brick walls.
Iron balconies.
Flower boxes overflowing with lavender.
Home.
She climbed the stairs to the third floor.
The hallway smelled faintly of rosemary.
Her grandmother.
Always drying herbs somewhere.
Laluna unlocked the apartment door.
"I'm home."
Silence.
She frowned.
"Abuela?"
No answer.
Her grandmother rarely left the apartment after sunset.
A strange feeling settled in Laluna's stomach.
She slipped off her shoes and walked toward the kitchen.
A cup of tea sat on the table.
Still warm.
The back door was open.
Rain blew through the doorway.
"Abuela?"
She stepped outside onto the small balcony.
Empty.
"Laluna."
The voice came from behind her.
She spun around.
Her grandmother stood in the kitchen doorway.
Her silver hair was damp.
Her breathing uneven.
"You're soaked."
"I know."
"Where were you?"
Her grandmother didn't answer immediately
.
Instead, she stared at Laluna's face.
Then reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You met someone today."
Laluna blinked.
"...What?"
"You touched him."
Every muscle in Laluna's body tensed.
"How do you know that?"
Her grandmother's expression slowly lost its warmth.
For the first time in years...
She looked afraid.
"What did he look like?"
Laluna hesitated.
"Tall."
Her grandmother remained silent.
"Dark hair."
Still silent.
"Brown eyes."
Her grandmother closed her eyes.
"No..."
Laluna's pulse quickened.
"Abuela?"
"When did it happen?"
"This morning."
"Did he touch you?"
"Our hands brushed."
Her grandmother grabbed the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Laluna..."
Her voice trembled.
"You have to promise me something."
"What?"
"If you ever see that young man again..."
She looked directly into Laluna's eyes.
"...don't let him touch you."
Laluna frowned.
"Why?"
Her grandmother opened her mouth.
But before she could answer—
Three heavy knocks echoed through the apartment.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The room fell silent.
Her grandmother's face drained of color.
She whispered only two words.
"They found us."
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