The afternoon sun poured over the city like liquid gold, glinting off glass windows and casting long shadows across the bustling streets.
Cars honked impatiently, buses hissed their brakes, and the scent of roasted coffee beans and fried food mingled with the faint tang of exhaust.
People walked fast-talking, laughing, arguing-others lost in their thoughts.
Within a black Rolls-Royce Phantom sat a man. He had his hands on the wheel, waiting at a red light.
Black hair, all combed back. Dazzling hazel eyes scanning the street. Nothing unusual. Just another busy afternoon.
Then he saw her.
A girl-barefoot, ragged clothes, running. She clutched a small bag close to her chest. Her face was dirty, her dark locks a mess. Behind her, three people shouted.
"Stop her!"
"Thief!"
He frowned, even though his face tried to stay calm. Something about her seemed... familiar. Suddenly, his jaw tightened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, though his posture didn't change.
He watched her sprint past a bakery, past a coffee shop, and then vanish behind a corner. His chest tightened, though he didn't know why.
The light turned green. He drove on, expression back to casual, unreadable.
The girl didn't stop.
Her lungs burned. Her feet scraped against the pavement, callused and cracked.
She didn't look back, didn't slow until the shouts faded and the figures behind her gave up.
One of them grumbled, holding back a friend who still wanted to chase.
"It's nothing. Just food. Let her go."
"Yeah," the other muttered. "These homeless people... mad, really."
She dropped to the ground at last, sweat stinging her eyes, sunlight scorching her shoulders. Her stomach growled, gnawing with days of emptiness. The bag in her hands smelled warm and greasy.
She looked into the bag and saw a burger. She smiled heartily, because this was probably one of the luckiest days she'd had in a while. She tore into it hungrily, like she hadn't eaten in days-possibly because she actually hadn't.
"Leave her alone... please... don't jump," she muttered between bites, words falling out in short, urgent bursts. She sat there like a broken toy, spilling words that made no sense.
People passing by stared, stepping around her, noses wrinkled, whispering things she didn't hear. She focused only on the food, on the warmth spreading through her belly as she ate. Crowds passed, whispers trailed, some shook their heads.
"She's on something," one said.
"Mad," muttered another.
She didn't notice. Couldn't.
And then she saw him.
Standing there-tall, masculine. His black hair neat. Hazel eyes sharp, almost too sharp. For a moment, everything froze. Her vision blurred, and a memory hit her like a wave.
Flashback
The classroom was filled with noise. Students chatted, pens tapped, papers fell. The teacher's voice tried to cut through it.
"Quiet! Please!"
Then suddenly, the door flew open.
The head teacher came in with a boy. He had short dark hair, a chiselled face, and hazel eyes that could put anyone in a daze if stared at too long. Silence.
"Class, this is Hezron, your new classmate. Be kind."
The bell rang. Hezron walked to the back, shy, looking at the floor. Soon, class was over.
After class, four boys cornered him in the hallway.
"You looked at my girlfriend," said the leader, Derek.
Hezron didn't answer-not because he was guilty, but because he was too scared to. All his life, he had been bullied: at first for being fat and chatty, and now for being slimmer and quiet. He learned that answering only made it worse.
A bag flew at them.
A young girl stood there, eyes blazing.
"Touch him, and you'll answer to me," she said. "Or I tell my brother."
The boys backed off hesitantly. As if they weren't scared-but they muttered something under their breath and left.
Hezron knelt to pick up his books. Voila helped him.
"Don't cry," she said softly when she saw the tears falling down his face. "They'll see weakness and prey on it."
Hezron blinked, tears streaking his cheeks. She smiled-wide, dimples deep, eyes sparkling with unshed light.
"I'm Voila. You are?"
He whispered his name.
"Hezron."
Present.
Back in the city, she stared at him, chest rising and falling. Pavement burned her bare feet. The warm wind tugged at her hair, the smell of fried food heavy around her.
He didn't move. Only eyes. Only that look.