Mira Santos had long learned to navigate the world without expecting much. The world was an unpredictable place, and if there was one thing she'd grown accustomed to, it was survival. She had no grand dreams, no fancy aspirations. Her goal, every day, was to make sure she could pay her bills, keep the roof over her head, and ensure that her sick mother had her medications. Anything beyond that was an afterthought.
It was raining harder than usual that evening. The skies were dark and threatening, as if the universe itself had given up on hope. Mira huddled beneath the awning of a small grocery store in San Elano, shaking out her umbrella with one hand while clutching her mother's prescription in the other. Her heart was still pounding from the rush of having finished a long shift at the diner, and she couldn't wait to get home, make a cup of tea, and finally collapse into bed.
She was so focused on the task of shielding herself from the downpour that she didn't hear the screeching of tires until it was too late. A car swerved, narrowly missing the curb, and came crashing into a lamppost before veering into the sidewalk. Mira's heart leapt into her throat as the vehicle came to a stop just inches from where she stood.
Before she could even comprehend what had happened, the door swung open, and a tall, disheveled figure stumbled out, clutching his head as if trying to regain his bearings. Mira's instincts kicked in immediately. She dropped the umbrella, shoved the prescription into her bag, and rushed toward him.
"Hey, are you okay?" she called out, her voice rising over the sound of the rain. The man was dazed, his face pale, and his movements were shaky as he tried to stand up straight. He staggered toward the curb, looking as though he might collapse any second.
"I'm fine," he muttered, but his words were slurred, and his hand reached out, unsteady. Without thinking, Mira grabbed his arm to steady him.
"You don't look fine," she said, her voice firm. "You've been in an accident. You need to sit down before you fall."
He blinked at her as though seeing her for the first time. She wasn't sure if it was the shock from the accident or his hazy state of mind, but he didn't argue. He let her guide him to the nearby bench, where he collapsed, breathing heavily.
Mira was about to ask if he wanted her to call an ambulance when a sleek black car pulled up beside them. The door opened, and a man in a crisp suit stepped out. He was tall, effortlessly handsome, and his every movement spoke of money and power. The expensive suit he wore clung to his frame as though it had been custom-tailored just for him. His dark brown eyes scanned the scene quickly before settling on Mira.
"Is he alright?" the man asked, his voice deep, sharp, and smooth as velvet.
Mira turned her attention back to the injured man. "I think so. He needs a doctor, though."
The man in the suit took a few steps forward, reaching for his phone. "I'll handle it. I'm calling my driver to take him to the hospital."
Mira hesitated, unsure of whether she should stay or go. She had nothing to do with this situation, after all. She had been on her way home when this had happened. But something about the stranger's eyes, the way he had collapsed, unsettled her. She couldn't leave him alone.
"I'll stay with him until someone gets here," Mira said, her tone more determined than she felt. The man in the suit gave her a brief look—one that held no judgment, only a sense of detached curiosity.
"I'll send help," he said, before stepping back toward his car and getting in. The vehicle sped off, leaving Mira alone with the man she had just saved from the accident.
She turned her attention back to him. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her voice softening.
"I'm... I think so," the man mumbled, shaking his head as if trying to clear the fog in his brain. "Just a little shaken up."
Mira glanced at the wrecked car. "You're lucky. That could've been worse."
He let out a low chuckle, though it sounded strained. "I've had worse. This is nothing."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "You've had worse?" she repeated skeptically.
The man's lips twitched into a half-smile. "I'm Leo," he said, his voice rough but with a certain warmth to it. "Leo Cavendish."
The name didn't immediately register in Mira's mind. To her, it was just another name—another person with a vague, forgettable moniker. But Leo's presence seemed to shift something in the air. It wasn't just the dark suit or his commanding tone—it was something more. There was an aura around him, something that whispered of privilege and power, of things she didn't have access to.
She blinked and nodded. "Mira," she introduced herself simply. She didn't need to offer more than that. Her life had never been one for grand introductions, and at the moment, Leo Cavendish was just another man who needed help.
"Thanks for... saving me," Leo said, his voice quieter now, almost as though the words were costing him something.
Mira gave a small shrug. "I couldn't just leave you there."
He studied her for a moment, his eyes scanning her face with a sharpness that she couldn't quite place. Then, without saying anything else, he leaned back against the bench, his expression distant, as if lost in thought.
Before she could say anything else, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the silence. A sleek black car pulled up again, and this time, a well-dressed woman in her forties stepped out. She seemed to glide across the wet pavement, her heels clicking softly in the rain, her face calm and composed despite the chaos.
"Mira," the woman called, her voice smooth and confident. "I'm sorry for the trouble. You can leave now."
Mira turned to her, confused. "Excuse me?"
"This is Mr. Cavendish's personal assistant," Leo muttered, his voice still hazy. "She'll take it from here."
The assistant turned to Mira. "We'll cover the hospital expenses," she said, her tone polite but firm. "Mr. Cavendish insists on reimbursing you for your time."
Mira stared at the assistant for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't do this for money," she said, her voice catching in her throat. She wasn't used to this kind of treatment, especially not from people like Leo Cavendish. She had saved him because it was the right thing to do, not because she expected anything in return.
The assistant looked at Leo, who was now slowly sitting upright. "He insists," she said with a tight smile, as if that settled the matter.
Mira shook her head. "I don't need anything," she replied firmly. "I just hope he's alright."
The assistant seemed unfazed. "He'll be fine," she said, her gaze flicking between the two of them. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."
Mira nodded, then, without another word, turned to leave. As she walked away, she heard Leo's voice calling out to her.
"Hey, Mira," he said softly, his tone now more grounded. "Thank you."
She didn't look back. Instead, she walked into the rain, feeling the weight of the city on her shoulders once more.