Two Years Ago
Ava's POV
The scent of freshly brewed coffee clung to the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of vanilla and cinnamon from the display of pastries. The café was nearly silent, the only sound coming from the humming espresso machine and the occasional clatter of utensils.
I checked the clock above the counter for what felt like the hundredth time. Five minutes. Just five more minutes until my shift was over. My fingers drummed impatiently against the counter as I glanced at the empty tables. The café wasn't always busy, but there were usually a few customers trickling in throughout the day. Today? Not a single soul.
I let out a sigh. I still had a lecture in Seoul, and the bus ride would take at least an hour. If I missed it, that would be the third time this month.
Five seconds. Four. Three. Two—
"Hello!"
I nearly groaned. Really? Right when I was about to leave?
Turning on my customer-service smile, I greeted the man at the counter in Korean. "Yes, what would you like?"
"Four iced coffees and some strawberry cheesecake," he said, scanning the desserts on display.
I quickly prepared the order, trying not to let my impatience show. As soon as I handed him the bag, the door swung open, and Do-Yoon walked in, a stack of white paper sheets nearly slipping from his grasp.
I smirked and tapped him on the shoulder—a little ritual we had whenever we switched shifts. No words were needed. He rolled his eyes at me but didn't say anything as I slipped off my apron, tossed it onto the counter, and bolted out the door.
The moment I stepped outside, the smell of wet pavement filled my nostrils. The wind picked up, howling through the narrow streets. Above me, the sky darkened, the angry clouds rumbling with distant thunder.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Of all the days not to carry an umbrella.
I glanced at my phone. If I ran, I could still make it to the bus stop before the storm got worse.
I ran.
My heart pounded in my chest as the wind pushed against me, my hair whipping around my face. By the time I reached the stop, the first drops of rain had already started to fall. The bus doors hissed open just as I swiped my T-Money card, barely catching my breath as I climbed in.
I chose the window seat at the back, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. The rain started falling in heavy sheets, painting the city in streaks of gray and silver. It was beautiful in a tragic sort of way.
I might not make it to class, but at least the rain was here to keep me company.
Just then, my phone buzzed.
---
Third-Person POV
Ava barely had time to unlock the screen before a shrill, piercing scream shattered the quiet.
Passengers turned in alarm, their gazes snapping toward the back of the bus.
"No. No. No! This can't be happening!"
Ava's breath came in sharp gasps, her vision blurring. The words on her screen swam before her eyes, twisting and distorting. Her stomach lurched violently, a sharp pain slicing through her chest.
She couldn't breathe.
This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.
"This can't happen to me!" she choked, her voice rising in panic.
She shot up from her seat, her hands trembling so violently she could barely grip her phone.
"Young lady, what are you doing?!" the driver shouted, but Ava didn't hear him.
Her head spun. Her legs felt weak.
"Stop the bus!" she cried.
"I can't just—"
"Please!" she sobbed, her voice cracking. "My dad just died!"
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Silence fell over the bus. Even the rain seemed to quiet for a moment, as if mourning alongside her.
The driver hesitated for only a second before slamming the brakes. The doors hissed open, revealing the storm raging outside.
Ava ran.
---
Ava's POV
The rain pounded against my skin, but I didn't feel it.
I ran. I ran until my lungs burned, until my legs ached, until my vision blurred from the mix of rain and tears.
He's gone.
The words replayed in my mind like a cruel joke. My father. My best friend. My everything. Gone.
I stumbled. My knees hit the pavement, the shock of impact sending a sharp pain through my legs. A metallic taste filled my mouth. Blood.
But I didn't care.
I let out a broken, ragged scream.
This isn't happening. This can't be real.
My father was the kindest man I had ever known. He saved me. He found me—an abandoned child on the cold streets of Milan—and took me in. He gave me a home. A family. A name.
How could the world take someone like him away?
My shoulders shook as I clutched my chest. The pain was unbearable, as if something was physically tearing me apart from the inside.
The rain mixed with my tears, soaking through my clothes.
I wanted to wake up. I wanted to go back to the café, to my shift, to a world where my father was still alive.
But there was no waking up from this.
I pressed my forehead against the wet pavement, my body trembling uncontrollably.
The pain was unbearable.
I screamed again. A sound so raw and broken that it barely sounded human.
But the rain swallowed my cries, leaving me alone in the storm