Every breath Elara Vance took on campus cost her something.
Her alarm shrieked at 5:47, three minutes before it needed to, because she'd learned that those extra minutes of sleep weren't worth the panic. She slapped it silent and sat up, her spine protesting. The springs in her dorm mattress had given up sometime around October.
Coffee. She needed coffee.
The instant kind that tasted like disappointment and regret, but cost $3.99 for a jar that lasted two weeks if she managed it well. She spooned it into yesterday's mug, which still had lipstick on the rim, and added tap water, which she had microwaved in a plastic container. Breakfast of champions.
Her reflection in the bathroom mirror looked tired. Not the cute, "I stayed up reading poetry," tired. The "I worked a double shift and still have a paper due" tired. She dabbed concealer under her eyes and told herself it was fine. Nobody noticed the scholarship kids anyway.
Except they did. They always did.
One wrong grade and it would all disappear. Her dream. Her future. Everything.
The campus, on the other hand, looked like something from a movie: ivy walls, marble stairs, last names that could buy small countries. The rich kids glided through it all like they owned gravity.
Elara, meanwhile, walked through it like she was trespassing. She overheard their conversations:
"My father's charity gala this Saturday…"
"…our summer house in Florence."
Meanwhile, she was choosing between buying laundry detergent and lunch. When night fell, city lights flickered through her window, and she'd tell herself, " One more year. Just one more year. But she knew that was just another promise to keep from breaking.
At noon, she was halfway through a sad cafeteria sandwich when her friend Maya dropped into the seat across from her, eyes vast and dramatic as always. "You got the invite too?" Elara blinked at the emerald-green paper, the kind that probably cost more than her textbooks. "Got what?" "The Thorne Foundation Gala invite!" Maya shoved it across the desk, nearly knocking over the coffee. "It's the event. Like, people would sell organs for this invitation." Elara picked it up and felt its weight. Heavy. Expensive. Her name was in gold cursive that looked too elegant to be real. Miss Elara Vance. "They sent this to the wrong person," she said. "They sent it to a hundred students," Maya corrected. "But still. The Thornes. Do you know what this means?" "Free food?" Maya threw a pillow at her. "Networking! Connections! Rich people who might actually fund your future!"
"They must've sent this by mistake."
But that night, under her weak desk lamp, she read it three times. And for some reason, she couldn't throw it away. The event was on Saturday, just two days away.
By the time Saturday rolled around, she had managed to reassure herself that she was not nervous; she was just curious.
Her second-hand dress did not look exactly like an elegant piece of clothing, but she had steamed it, and it looked good enough. She borrowed Maya's heels, which were just a bit smaller than her size, and a shawl that smelled lightly of rose fragrance and hope.
She was not so flattered by her dorm mirror, but at least she looked presentable. She applied some lip gloss, pinned back a rebellious hair, and gave her reflection a little pep talk, "Smile, breathe, blend in."
The cab ride felt surreal; it was impossible to ignore the smell of gasoline mixed with wet leather, and the rain, which was running down the windows, had turned the city lights into blurry gold smudges. She was playing with her bag due to nervousness, but at the same time, she was tracing the invitation with her thumb, feeling both excited and scared. What was she even doing?
When the car stopped at last, her stomach turned. The Thorne Foundation Hall was a fairy tale place; the chandeliers were dazzling and lit the marble stairs. She paid the cab fare and got out into the rain, immediately regretting every decision that led her to this moment.
Shiny was an understatement for the inside of the building. There was not a single dull spot from the crystal glass that was shining the most; the gold embellishments glinted, and the people looked as if they had just come from a fashion magazine. She adjusted her shawl, whispering to herself, "Smile, breathe, blend in."
A waiter who passed by with a tray full of champagne gave her a chance to pick a drink, but she took sparkling water instead. Each glance from the crowd was a reminder that she didn't quite fit in, until her gaze landed on someone who changed everything.
Across the room, beneath a grand chandelier, stood Julian Thorne. He wore a dark suit and had an air of cool detachment. He was talking to someone, but it was obvious he wasn't really listening. Their eyes met for just a moment, sharp, curious, electric, before someone stepped between them, breaking the connection.
She told herself it meant nothing. But her heart didn't get the memo.
After some time, Elara went outside to get some fresh air when the speeches were over, and the applause had died down.
The cold and very sharp night air made her shiver slightly, and she quickly wrapped her shawl even more around her shoulders. She couldn't hold back her laughter and murmured to herself, "Survived the circus." At that precise moment, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was a message from Maya: Did you meet him? Elara couldn't help but smile, thinking of her night. Not even close. Just making it through felt like a victory.
She removed her high heels and held them in one hand as she walked down the slippery marble stairs. The rain sparkled under the streetlamps. For once, she felt free.
Then came the noise. Tires screamed. Headlights cut through the dark. A black limousine spun out of nowhere, metal screeched, glass broke, and a body hit the pavement. Elara froze. Then she ran. Smoke. Blood. Chaos. The man on the ground looked unreal, his white shirt torn, his face pale. Julian Thorne.
"Is he breathing?" someone shouted.
Elara dropped to her knees. Her hands pressed against his chest.
No movement. Her pulse spiked.
"Come on," she whispered. "Don't you dare."
And that was how it started.
Not with miracles.
But at that moment, she gave a stranger his breath and lost hers in the process.