Alpha and the wallflower

Chapter 5 - Belonging

Somewhere in Khelam, Hayden was completely unaware that her simple existence had already shifted someone's world—all because she had missed getting off on the right floor. It was a small, seemingly insignificant moment, but life often works in mysterious ways, weaving connections between people who have no idea how intertwined their fates might become.

Hayden’s POV

I woke up early on Sunday, the city still wrapped in the calm of dawn. I’d gotten used to the quiet rhythm of my life—early mornings, part-time shifts at the café, and the constant juggle of making ends meet. I’d finished university on a scholarship, something I was proud of, but adulthood came at me fast. Rent didn’t pay itself, and here I was, working at a small café near the city center. It was cozy, nothing like the towering skyscrapers of Khelam’s skyline.

By 7 a.m., I was unlocking the door and flicking on the lights. The weekend hours were a bit gentler—opening at 8 a.m. instead of the usual 7. I moved through the motions, setting up tables, arranging chairs, and prepping the counter for the day ahead. I put the chalkboard sign outside, my neat handwriting announcing the specials for the day. When everything was in place, I fixed myself a simple breakfast—a cup of coffee and a slice of toast with jam. The early morning silence was my favorite part of the day, a brief slice of peace before the city truly came alive.

From behind the counter, I could see the distant silhouette of Blackwood Tower, its glass exterior glowing in the morning light. The bold “BW” was unmistakable, a symbol of power, of success. Something about that building always pulled at me, like it held some kind of unspoken promise. I often wondered what it would be like to work there, to be part of something so grand, so influential. I imagined the view from the top floor, how small the world’s worries might seem from that height.

I sighed, stirring my coffee absentmindedly. The people who owned that company—who ran that empire—must have perfect lives. No part-time jobs, no rent to worry about, no constant hustle. They probably had everything they could ever want.

I couldn’t help but smile, just a little wistful. I didn’t need much, but I couldn’t help dreaming of being part of something bigger, something that mattered. I silently wished, my eyes still fixed on the distant tower, that one day, I might find my place in that world, even if it was just a small part of it.

The door chimed, breaking me from my thoughts. Mr. Wilkinson, the first customer of the day, walked in. He was a regular, always coming in to sip his tea and read the newspaper. An older man with a kind face, he loved telling me stories from his youth. Some of them were so outlandish I suspected they were more fiction than fact, but I never let on. I humored him with a smile, always polite, always kind.

But today, Mr. Wilkinson seemed different. He looked at me with an intensity I hadn’t noticed before.

“Hey, are you still working here?” he asked, his voice holding something curious.

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Yes, Mr. Wilkinson. Where else would I be?” I laughed lightly.

He studied me for a moment, his gaze sharp. “Well, you’ll be where you belong soon enough,” he said cryptically, then turned his attention back to his newspaper.

I stood there, unsure of what to make of his words. It was strange, even for Mr. Wilkinson. I shook my head and decided not to read too much into it. He was an eccentric man, after all, and his comments were often a little odd.

I went behind the counter and started preparing his usual breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a pot of tea.