Chapter 1: The Morning Rush

The alarm didn’t ring.

Because it broke three months ago.

Milena Quin woke to the faint hum of traffic outside her cracked apartment window, the city’s restless rhythm beating like a second heartbeat inside her skull. It was 5:12 a.m. The room was cold, the air biting against her skin. The heating had stopped working sometime in February, but she hadn’t called the landlord since—she already owed him half the rent.

She turned to the small shape beside her on the mattress. Emilia. Her daughter’s soft breath puffed against her arm, tangled in a blanket too thin for the New York winter.

Milena brushed a strand of hair off her daughter’s forehead. Seven years old, and still dreaming like the world was kind.

“Mommy?” The voice was small, sleepy.

Milena smiled softly. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. It’s early.”

Emilia’s eyes fluttered open just long enough to whisper, “You have to go to work.”

That stabbed deeper than the morning chill ever could.

Milena kissed her temple. “I will. But only after you eat, okay?”

She got up quietly, wrapping a frayed robe around herself, and padded into the kitchen—a narrow strip of space with one flickering bulb and a half-broken fridge. The light revealed yesterday’s reality: two eggs, one apple, and half a loaf of bread that was starting to harden.

She sliced the bread thinly, pretending it was enough for both of them. Emilia would eat the eggs. She’d just have coffee at work.

As she cooked, the city outside roared awake. Car horns, sirens, the clatter of lives more fortunate than hers. The same melody of survival she’d heard for seven years since the day her husband walked out and never came back.

By six-thirty, she’d braided Emilia’s hair and buttoned her coat—the one she found last winter in a donation box. The sleeves were a little short, but Emilia never complained. She only smiled and said, “It’s warm, Mommy.”

They hurried down the narrow apartment stairs. The paint was peeling, and the walls smelled of dampness. But when Emilia held her hand, the world didn’t feel so heavy.

The morning wind outside was sharp, cutting through her thin coat. Steam rose from the street grates as people brushed past, coffee cups in hand, talking about meetings and deadlines—lives too fast to notice a mother and daughter sharing a half-empty umbrella on their way to school.

At the corner, Emilia tugged her sleeve. “Mommy, when you get a lot of money, can we buy a house with a big window?”

Milena smiled, though it hurt to. “Yes, baby. One day, we’ll have that house.”

“Will it have a garden?”

“Of course. You’ll plant all the flowers.”

Emilia giggled, and Milena memorized the sound like a prayer.

After dropping her off at the small public school on 14th Street, Milena headed straight to her cleaning job at the downtown hotel. She changed into her uniform in the locker room—blue cotton shirt, black slacks, and a badge with her name printed slightly crooked.

The manager didn’t greet her, just waved her toward another stack of rooms to clean. Eleven today. Maybe twelve if someone called in sick.

Milena worked in silence, scrubbing floors until her knees ached and wiping mirrors that reflected her tired eyes. Every room she cleaned was a glimpse into a life she didn’t have—soft sheets, warm showers, people who never worried about overdue rent or broken shoes.

By lunch, her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Coffee was enough. Coffee was always enough.

She checked her phone—one message from the landlord:

“Need payment today or you’re out by the weekend.”

Her hands trembled. The rent money she’d been saving had gone to Emilia’s school trip fee last week. She told herself it was worth it. Emilia should get to be a kid.

But reality didn’t care about childhood.

That evening, she picked up Emilia from Mrs. Rowen’s apartment next door, the old woman who babysat her for a few dollars a day. Emilia ran into her arms, beaming, clutching a paper star she’d made in class.

“Look, Mommy! I got a gold sticker!”

Milena crouched, hugging her tight. “You’re amazing, baby.”

She didn’t tell her about the eviction notice. Or that tomorrow, she’d have to beg her boss for extra hours, maybe even night shifts.

At dinner, they shared instant noodles. Emilia laughed while drawing stars on the table with her finger. Milena pretended to eat but ended up watching her daughter more than her food.

When the lights went out again due to unpaid bills, Emilia said it was okay because “it makes dinner feel like camping.”

Milena smiled in the dark, tears burning in her eyes.

“I love you, Mommy,” Emilia whispered sleepily.

“I love you more,” Milena answered, her voice breaking.

When her daughter fell asleep, Milena sat by the window, staring at the city lights below—the world that kept spinning no matter who fell behind. Her hands were cracked, her eyes hollow, but inside her chest, something still burned.

Not hope exactly.

Something quieter.

The kind of strength that only comes when you have someone to protect.

Outside, New York breathed—loud, merciless, and alive.

And somewhere in that vast city, fate was already moving, drawing the path of a stranger whose eyes would soon find hers…

But tonight, Milena was still alone

and she didn’t know that someone had already started watching.

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