MIRA
Fog hangs low when Sunday creeps in, painting The Shallows in dull strokes. Six o'clock chimes, like every day, pulling me awake. Above, the ceiling holds my gaze - twenty slow minutes lost there. Scenes from yesterday rewind without permission, again and again.
Damen Blackwood stayed at Lou's Diner - three full hours ticking by. Steam curled up from the coffee cup, mine now cold. Fries scattered across the plate, some still crisp, others gone soft. His eyes never left my face, steady, quiet, like he was seeing something rare.
Funny how nothing fits. Nothing lines up at all.
"You're thinking about him again."
Head turns. There she is, Elena, framed in the doorway, ready for the day, strands of black hair escaping a loose tie at her neck. Not quite polished, never tries to be - just jeans and an old hoodie hanging on her frame, pieces found elsewhere but kept clean, cared for. Morning light catches the frayed cuff of her sleeve. Her shoes sit by the hall mirror, laced up tight.
"I'm thinking about a lot of things."
"You're thinking about the rich boy." She comes in, sits on the edge of my bed. "I saw him last night. Through the window. He stayed forever."
"He stayed for coffee."
Mmhmm." Her glance lands on me - sharp, like she sees more than anyone should at fourteen. Yet her fingers had brushed his, lingered there, quiet proof beneath the silence
My back snaps upright. Did you catch it?
"The diner has windows, Mira. Big ones. I was walking home from Sasha's and I saw you two at the booth. Holding hands." She pauses. "It looked nice."
"It looked... I don't know what it looked like."
"It looked like you were happy." Her voice softens. "When's the last time you were happy?"
Harder than expected, the question lands. Memory stretches backward, searching deep, yet nothing comes clear. Moments pop up - smiles after exams, coins stacked in a glass, Elena's sudden laugh at nonsense. Yet joy? The kind without strings? That stays quiet.
Maybe I've never really known that feeling.
"Be careful," Elena says, echoing my own thoughts. "Rich boys don't stay. That's what Mom always said."
"Mom said a lot of things. Most of them were wrong."
"Some of them were right." She stands, heads for the door. "Just... don't get hurt, okay? I can't watch you get hurt again."
Off she goes, leaving me mid-thought.
Ten more minutes pass while I stay propped up on the mattress, turning pain over in my mind. Wounds come from everywhere, really - hands, words, silence, even kindness that vanishes too fast. Getting used to being cut has become its own kind of armor, dull and heavy but familiar.
Damen isn't bracing for pain. That's not what lives under his skin. Something different hums beneath the surface instead.
What really gets under my skin is that.
***
Halfway through the day, the downpour ends, bringing out a fresh scent that lets The Shallows seem less harsh for once. A knock comes just as I sit bent over college essay pages at the kitchen table. Raindrops had clung to the windows earlier, now gone without warning.
It's not the entrance to the building. It's our apartment door. Strange, really. We never have guests.
Out there, I move quiet, eyes pressed to the small opening in the door. There she is - waiting, framed by the dim hall light, a figure too sharp for this worn building. Her hair shines pale gold, everything about her lined up just right. Makeup flawless. Outfit screaming prices we'd never touch on what we earn each month.
Selena Vance.
A shiver runs through me.
It crosses my mind to stay silent. To act like nobody's inside. Then comes another knock, harder than before, and it hits me - she won't stop knocking, not until a voice or step gives her proof someone's there.
The latch clicks loose under my hand. Outside air spills into the room.
"Selena."
Mira." A smile spreads across her face - somehow the scariest sight I've known. "May I enter?"
"No."
Still smiling, she says it's okay. Then adds she won't take much time. Her eyes move across the hall - chipped walls, a shaky bulb, the scent of food from below. The space gets a quiet look. Real lived-in, she murmurs
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk. About Damen." She leans against the doorframe, casual, like we're old friends. "I'm sure you've noticed he's been... distracted lately. Spending time in places he doesn't belong. Talking to people who aren't his people."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" Her eyes sharpen. "He was at the diner last night. Yours, right? The one on Main? Cute little place. Very... working class."
Quiet now. The beat inside my chest hammers hard, though long hours have taught me how to hide it well.
"Here's the thing about Damen, Mira. He's loyal. To a fault. When he cares about something, he cares completely. But he's also naive. He doesn't understand that not everyone has good intentions. That some people might want him for what he can give them, not for who he is."
"Are you accusing me of something?"
"I'm not accusing. I'm explaining." She straightens, adjusts her perfect hair. "Damen's father called my father last night. Did you know that? Apparently Damen told him something... interesting. About a girl. About choices."
My feet sense the earth moving below. The soil slides without warning. Underfoot, everything tilts slightly. A tremor runs through the dirt just now. Something stirs deep under where I stand. Motion starts low and rises slow.
"Mr. Blackwood is very concerned. He asked my father - asked me - to help him understand what's happening. To help protect Damen from... poor decisions." She emphasizes the words carefully. "I told him I'd look into it. That's what I'm doing."
"You're threatening me."
"I'm warning you." The smile finally fades. "Damen has a future. A bright one. He's going to run his family's company, marry someone appropriate, live the life he was born for. That future doesn't include a scholarship girl from The Shallows with a jailbird mother and a sister who isn't really her sister."
My knees go weak when those words land. Cold emptiness spreads across my skin.
"That's right." Selena's voice is soft, almost kind. "I know about Elena. I know about your mother. I know everything, Mira. Everything you've tried so hard to hide."
"How?"
"It doesn't matter how. What matters is this: stay away from Damen. Or everyone finds out. Your teachers. The scholarship committee. Columbia." She pauses. "Child protective services."
Everything spins. My chest won't open. Walls tilt like they're drunk.
"Elena's fourteen," Selena continues. "Still young enough for foster care. Still young enough to be taken away from an unfit guardian. And you - what are you, seventeen? A minor yourself, raising a child alone, with no legal standing and a mother in jail? How do you think that looks to the state?"
"You can't - "
"I can. I have the resources, the connections, and the motivation." She steps closer, and for a moment, the mask slips. I see the real Selena underneath - not the perfect queen bee, but something wounded and furious and absolutely dangerous. "I've loved Damen since we were kids. I've waited for him. I've been patient. And I'm not going to let some little nobody steal him from me."
She turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh, and Mira? That scholarship you're counting on? The one that's supposed to get you out of here? My father sits on the board. One word from me, and it disappears. Think about that."
A shadow moves across the floor. Behind, the latch settles into place.
Floor meets me as I sink past the wall, legs folding like old paper. The cramped hall stretches blank before my eyes. Stillness holds everything, even breath.
Finding me there a quarter hour after, Elena stays silent. Without words, she lowers herself next to me. Her fingers wrap around mine. Patience fills the quiet between us.
***
DAMEN
Life stretches slow on Sundays. That one never seems to end.
Breakfast sits quiet. Dad keeps his eyes on the newspaper, sipping coffee without a glance my way - acts as if I vanished. Last night's words seem erased. Mom moves nearby, tense, stuck in the space where silence grows. She stays balanced on that edge, again.
Morning drags on inside these four walls, eyes stuck to the screen. A message to Mira sits heavy in my mind, yet fingers won't move. What slips out might sound like this: Hello, I mentioned you to my dad - now everything could burn. Hardly a love note. Silence feels safer.
Fog lifts by noon, restless again. Out the latch goes, fingers close around metal teeth. Door waits, then swings wide.
Out the door when Mom speaks up. Her words freeze my steps.
"Out."
"Damen - "
"I'll be back tonight." I don't turn around. "Don't wait up."
Faster today, the road to The Shallows feels familiar. Now I remember every turn. Which roads lead me there comes clear. Parking spots show up like old signs. Reaching Lou's Diner just happens, no map needed.
Yet upon arrival, the diner sits in darkness. A note written by hand says it does not open on Sundays.
Makes sense. Sure enough, it is shut.
Up in the driver's seat, thoughts spinning. Her phone number? Not stored anywhere. Exact address - missing too. Only a rough zone comes to mind. A name pulled from Kael's digging shows up: Willow Street. One clue sits there. Nothing more lands.
Foot by foot the car creeps along Willow, eyes flicking from doorway to fire escape. Maybe she left a mark. Could be nothing more than a shadow I recognize. Or just an open window where music spills out too loud. What am I even hoping to find?
Stupid, really. That kind of move - just sad. Feels like reaching, honestly.
Just as my hands drop, she appears. A moment too late almost, yet right on time somehow. There she stands, quiet, no fanfare. My breath catches, though I didn't plan it. The urge to leave fades without a sound. Something shifts, not loud - just underneath.
A figure rests on cracked concrete stairs, isolated, holding her own frame tight beneath thin sleeves. From this distance, it's clear - something has shifted. Shoulders curl forward like old paper, complexion drained, gaze stuck on empty air.
Footsteps echo as I step off the curb. Her eyes stay down, fixed on nothing, till my shadow falls across her chair.
"Damen?" Her voice is hoarse. "What are you doing here?"
Here I am," I say, lowering myself next to her on the icy stone. "Things went wrong?"
She stays silent at first. After a pause, her voice comes soft - "It was Selena."
My stomach drops. "Selena? She was here?"
"She found me. She knows everything, Damen. About Elena. About my mother. About... everything." She finally looks at me, and the pain in her eyes is like a knife in my chest. "She threatened to destroy us. To take Elena away. To ruin my scholarship. To - "
"Stop." I take her hands. They're freezing. "Stop. She can't do those things."
"She can. Her father's on the Columbia board. Her family has money, connections, power. I have nothing. Nothing except a secret I've been hiding for years, and now she knows it."
"What secret?" I ask gently. "Mira, what happened to you?"
Away go her hands. Up she rises. A couple of paces forward - then still, facing the other way.
"When I was fourteen," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "my mother had a boyfriend. His name was Derek. He lived with us for about six months." She pauses, and I see her shoulders shake. "One night, when my mother was out, he came into my room. I said no. I fought. It didn't matter."
The world stops.
"He went to jail. Eventually. But I was already pregnant." She turns, and there are tears on her face - the first I've ever seen her cry. "Elena isn't my sister, Damen. She's my daughter. My mother claimed her as her own to protect me, to protect us. We've been hiding it ever since."
On my feet now, I step closer. A twitch passes through her. The air shifts between us.
"Don't. Don't look at me like that. Don't pity me. I can't - "
"Mira." I stop a few feet away, giving her space. "I don't pity you. I'm not horrified. I'm not any of the things you're afraid of." I meet her eyes. "I'm angry. At him. At everyone who failed you. At a world that made you carry this alone."
Her eyes lock on mine, hunting for a flicker of deceit. Perhaps blame. But when nothing shows, a quiet break happens inside her.
"I was so scared," she whispers. "I'm still scared. Every day, I'm terrified someone will find out and take her away. She's all I have. She's the only good thing I've ever done."
"You're wrong." I close the distance between us, slowly, carefully. "You're the strongest person I've ever met. You've survived things that would break most people. You've built a life out of nothing. You've protected her, raised her, loved her - alone, with no help, no safety net." I take her face in my hands, gently. "That's not nothing. That's everything."
Falling into me, she lets the quiet sobs come. Her tears soak through my shirt without a sound. Held tight here, there's nothing left but breath and weight between us.
Frozen in place, we stay there forever it seems, on the icy stairs outside her apartment, dusk spilling across The Shallows, each lamp along the road blinking awake slowly, then another, then another.
Only then does she step away, cheeks flushed, gaze locked without wavering.
"Why are you here, Damen? Really. Why do you keep coming back?"
Father's words echo, heavy in my mind. Yet Selena spoke too - her voice sharp, urgent. What happens if I slip? Stakes pile up, unseen but real.
"Because you're the first real thing in my life," I say. "Because when I'm with you, I'm not Damen Blackwood, heir to the empire. I'm just... me. And that's enough."
A pause hangs in the air, deep and still. After that silence drags on, her hand rises, gentle like mine had been, brushing my cheek just as I'd brushed hers.
"If this blows up - if your family destroys me, if Selena takes Elena - "
"They won't."
"You don't know that."
"I know I won't let them." I cover her hand with mine. "I don't know how yet. I don't know what I can do. But I will fight for you, Mira. For both of you. I swear it."
Her eyes stay on mine, longer than before. After that quiet stretch, out of nowhere, her hand reaches for mine.
She kisses me.
A whisper of touch, light and unsure. Yet there it is - true. Her. All of it.
She nearly smiles as we step away.
"I should get back inside. Elena's waiting."
"I'll walk you up."
"You don't have to - "
"I know." I take her hand. "I want to."
Up we go, step by step. She stops where the doorway meets the hall.
"Tomorrow," she says. "At school. Everything changes, doesn't it?"
"Yeah." I squeeze her hand. "But we'll face it together."
One quick nod. Inside she goes, out of sight just like that.
A hush holds me there, just inside the hall, where groans from ancient walls mix with muffled talk and a blaring TV down the line. After that, wheels turn under me again, carrying me through streets toward home, where plans take shape, quiet but sharp.
***
SELENA
Fog pressed against the window. Midnight hummed through the walls. The bed creaked under me like it knew secrets. Wine glowed red in a chipped tumbler - taken without asking. Her cellar missed one bottle now. Silence pooled thick between breaths.
Briar perches there, flipping screens on her phone. Could be news - maybe not
"Not yet. But Monday's tomorrow."
"And Damen?"
Earlier came a message - just one line, dropped out of nowhere. A person down in The Shallows spotted Damen's vehicle near Willow Street. Not just passing through. Parked there, still, for nearly sixty minutes. Then he walked away. Something shifted in how he carried himself. Tight shoulders. Fixed gaze. Like his mind had locked onto something.
"He's still in denial. Still chasing his little fantasy." I sip the wine. "But reality has a way of asserting itself."
Briar lifts his gaze. So what happens now?
"The plan is simple. We make her life hell. We make her understand that every moment she spends with him costs her something. We push until she breaks." I set down the glass. "And when she breaks, he'll see her for what she really is. Weak. Desperate. Wrong for him."
"And if she doesn't break?"
I meet Briar's eyes. "Everyone breaks. It's just a matter of pressure."
Briar nods slowly. "And Elena? The daughter?"
Out of nowhere, it hit me. She's only fourteen - still so young that she could get hurt easily, yet mature enough to grasp what's happening. Exactly where the tension settles.
"We don't touch her directly. That's too far, even for us. But we make Mira afraid for her. We make her understand that every choice she makes puts Elena at risk." I pause. "Fear is a powerful motivator. Fear for someone you love? That's unbeatable."
Briar's mouth tilts up, just a little, like she knows something quiet. Her voice comes soft, almost to herself. You handle it well, she says, not looking away
"I've had good teachers." I pick up my wine again. "Now go. I need to think."
Fog rolls in. The door clicks shut behind her, leaving me still on the edge of the couch. Thoughts drift like loose paper - what if she stays, what if she returns, what might change tomorrow. Silence fills corners where her voice used to be.
Strong - that's what Mira Castillo tells herself. Worst life could bring? Already lived through it, so she believes. Yet here I come - different kind of threat. Not rushed, well-equipped, willing to wait forever. Losing means nothing now.
Faster than she expects, regret will settle deep. When my part ends, her curiosity about Damen Blackwood turns sour. Not a glance, not a thought - just remorse piling up like storm clouds. Her fascination fades under weight of consequence. What seemed thrilling now drags behind her like chains.
When I finish, she won't exist anymore.