~Karla's Pov~
By the time I leave the office, my brain is fried and my shoes feel like bricks strapped to my feet.
But there's no time to breathe.
I rush across town, swapping my blazer for a hoodie in a campus bathroom and tying my hair into a lazy bun. I'm five minutes late to my second class of the day Marketing Psychology and barely catch the professor's final slide as I slide into a chair in the back.
The air smells like dry-erase markers and coffee that's long gone cold.
My notes are a mess.
My brain's foggy.
But I'm here.
Barely, but here.
After class, I wander to the campus library. Not because I want to study more, but because I know if I go home now, I'll crash face-first into my pillow and forget to even eat.
The library is warm and quiet, lit with soft golden lights and filled with the gentle rustle of pages turning. I find a spot by the window and set up camp: laptop open, textbook propped, coffee number four in hand.
I'm in the middle of re-reading a case study on brand loyalty when I hear someone clear their throat beside me.
I glance up, confused.
And there he is.
Liam.
The same intern from Vale & Co. The one who approached me in the café earlier today. He's standing there in a grey hoodie now, messenger bag slung across his chest, that boyish smile curving at the corners like he's caught me mid-something again.
"Didn't think I'd run into you twice in one day," he says, his voice soft.
I blink, surprised but not unhappy. "Didn't expect to see you here, either. Are you stalking me, or just really into libraries?"
He grins. "Hey, I was here first. This is my thinking zone."
"Lucky for me," I say, smiling.
He gestures to the empty seat across from mine. "Mind if I join?"
I shake my head. "Go for it."
He drops his bag and slides into the chair. "So, Karla by day, intern extraordinaire. And Karla by night... full-time student?"
"Basically," I sigh. "No cape, though."
He chuckles. "I meant what I said earlier, by the way. About how you handled Dominic. That was gutsy."
I nod, warmed a little by the reminder. "Thanks. I'm still processing it."
We end up talking in soft voices over textbooks and glowing screens, comparing class notes, both of us slowly sliding into an ease I didn't expect after the day I've had.
Until....
"Shhhhhh."
We both look up to see the librarian glaring at us from across the room, a single finger to her lips and eyebrows arched in judgmental unity.
We freeze, then stifle laughter behind our hands like two kids caught cheating on a test.
Liam whispers, "Wanna escape before we get exiled from campus?"
"Yes. Please."
We pack up our things in silence, both trying not to laugh again as we make our way down the wide steps of the library.
Outside, the air is crisp, the sky darkening into that deep indigo of almost-night. Streetlights flicker on and students pass by in lazy pairs, their conversations fading into background noise.
"You ever sleep?" Liam asks as we walk.
"Rarely. Working full-time and being broke doesn't leave much time for naps."
He nudges my arm lightly. "You've got this energy. Like you're trying to do everything at once."
I glance over at him. "Is that a compliment or a red flag?"
"Definitely a compliment."
We laugh again, the easy kind, the kind that untangles something tight in my chest.
As we near the campus gates, Liam slows down. "Hey, do you want a ride home? I've got my bike here. I can drop you off, it's not a problem."
I shake my head, smiling. "Thanks, but I think I'll walk through the park tonight. I need the air."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. It's been a long day. I just want to clear my head a bit before I crash."
He nods. "Okay. Rain check, then?"
"Rain check," I say, stepping back with a small wave.
"See you tomorrow?" he asks.
"Definitely."
I turn and start walking, the cool night air wrapping around me like a reset button. The city hums quietly beyond the trees, and the gravel crunches under my boots as I move through the park alone.
The weight of the day starts to loosen with every step. And for the first time in a long time, I feel... okay.
Maybe even hopeful.
And that's more than enough.
I take the longer way through the park, hugging my arms tighter around myself as a breeze rolls in, lifting the edges of my hoodie.
It's quiet here. The kind of quiet that presses gently into your chest. No car horns. No emails. Just the rustle of trees and the distant whir of a passing cyclist.
I spot a bench under one of the older oak trees and sit down, tucking my hands into the sleeves of my hoodie.
I breathe in deep.
The air smells like damp grass and something fading from summer.
I tilt my head back and close my eyes.
Aunt Evelyn.
Her laugh. The way she used to burn toast every other Sunday. Her soft humming when she folded laundry. The way she'd hold my hand when I had nightmares, like she could anchor me back to the world.
She gave up everything to raise me.
Her friends. Her career. Her life in New York.
She left it all to move to Australia and become my family when mine was torn away.
I think of her voice the last night I saw her at the airport:
"Live, Karla. I didn't give up everything for you to just survive. I want you to live."
My chest tightens, the words echoing louder than they should.
And then suddenly, the tears come.
Not loud. Not messy.
Just quiet streams down my cheeks as I smile to myself and cry at the same time.
I miss her. God, I miss her.
But I also know she'd be proud of me.
Even on the days I doubt myself—especially on the days I doubt myself—she'd remind me I'm stronger than I feel.
I wipe my face quickly, glancing around to make sure no one's watching.
Just a girl on a bench in the dark, holding onto the memory of the woman who gave her a second chance at life.
And somehow, even through the ache, I feel steadier.
More rooted.
I stand, press my palms to my thighs, and keep walking.
One foot in front of the other.
One breath at a time.
And maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to live.