Fifteen Years Later…
"What the heck, Will! Are you seriously breaking up with me?" Mira's voice cracked as it tore through the cozy atmosphere of Gwen's Coffee House. Conversations faltered, heads turned, and the clinking of cups paused as strangers glanced at the girl standing in the corner, her phone clutched tightly in her trembling hand.
She didn't care that she was the center of attention. Her vision blurred with anger and disbelief. Her hands shook so violently that she nearly dropped the phone, but she stared at the screen anyway. The bold letters across the top mocked her—Will.
"Mira… please, calm down. Try to understand my point of view," Will's voice drifted through the speaker, soft, pleading, yet distant—as though he'd already made up his mind.
"Your point of view?" she spat, her voice trembling with rage and pain. "Screw you and your point of view! You're doing this for yourself, not for us! Four years, Will. Four good years! And this is how you end it?"
Her knees wobbled, and she sank back into her chair. It felt like her entire body was caving in. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to stop the storm inside her heart. This was the same man she had laughed with on starry nights, the man who had held her through countless storms, the boy she had trusted even before college. And now… this?
He sighed heavily on the other end, frustration lining his tone. "I told you before, Mira… just give me time. I'll come back for you."
Her laughter was bitter, sharp enough to wound. "Come back for me? Where are you now, Will? Why don't you tell me that?" Silence stretched, and Mira's chest constricted. She could hear only his breathing, steady yet heavy.
"You know what?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, low but venomous. "I'm done. Thank God you said you wanted to break up. I'll comply with your wish." Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out, harsh and final. "Asshole."
Before he could respond, she jabbed the screen and ended the call. The abrupt silence was deafening.
Her phone slipped onto the table with a soft clink. She felt her heart tear in half, raw and throbbing. Just last night, they had made plans to move to City B, to start fresh with new jobs. He had kissed her forehead and whispered promises of forever. And today… he was leaving. Going to some undisclosed location. Promising to "come back."
Liar.
She bit down on her lip so hard she tasted iron. Her vision clouded, the once-bright café dimming as if the world was mocking her misery.
"Excuse me, Miss."
The polite voice startled her. The waiter had arrived with the bill, placing it gently on the table. Mira blinked rapidly, nodding in apology as she tried to collect herself. He gave her a sympathetic look before walking away to serve another table.
Mira quickly placed some bills down, grabbed her bag, and waved to him as she left. Her legs felt like lead as she stepped outside into the chilled afternoon. The sky was gray, heavy with clouds that seemed to echo the weight in her chest.
She hailed a taxi, the ride passing in a blur of city lights and honking cars. By the time the cab pulled up to her apartment complex, Mira's tears had dried into faint salty stains on her cheeks. She paid the driver with shaky fingers and stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement.
Her neighbor, Mrs. Maurice, was just outside, her plump figure pacing frantically. The middle-aged woman's face was pale, her eyes darting around as if she were being hunted.
"Mira!" she gasped the moment she saw her. She rushed over, grabbing Mira's wrist with surprising strength. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere!"
Mira frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Some men… some dangerous men were here looking for you!" Mrs. Maurice's voice shook as she leaned closer, lowering her tone. "They looked like gangsters. Big, scary men. They asked for you—for Mirabelle Brown."
"What?" Mira blinked in disbelief, her heart leaping into her throat. "That must be a mistake. I don't know any gang members. I've just been at work—and then the café. Why would they be looking for me?"
But Mrs. Maurice shook her head firmly. "No mistake. They said your full name. Mirabelle Brown. I told them I didn't know where you were, but I hurried out to warn you before they found you again. You must call the police."
Her heart pounded in her chest, louder than the city traffic around them. First Will, now this? What kind of nightmare was today turning into?
Mrs. Maurice already had her phone out, dialing frantically. "Stay here with me. Don't go upstairs, Mira. They had guns. It's not safe."
Mira dropped to a crouch, raking her fingers through her hair. "Why? Why me?" she whispered, her voice breaking in despair.
The air thickened with dread as they hid beneath the canopy near the side of the building. Minutes stretched like hours. Then, footsteps echoed nearby.
"Yes, Mr. Eric," a deep male voice growled into a phone. "We're at the location, but the target isn't here."
Mira froze. That voice… her body reacted before her mind caught up. It was familiar. So familiar that it made her stomach twist.
She leaned forward slightly, trying to catch a glimpse. No… it couldn't be.
"Mira!" Mrs. Maurice hissed, gripping her sleeve. "Don't you dare move. Do you want to die? Stay down!"
But Mira's heart was hammering wildly. That voice belonged to someone she knew—she was sure of it.
She gently pried Mrs. Maurice's hand off and took a trembling step toward the gate, her curiosity burning hotter than her fear.
Through the small crack in the gate, she saw the man's figure come into focus. Her eyes widened, her pulse stopped.
Her scream shattered the silence.
"LEVI—WHAT THE HELL!"