Chapter 1 – The Day Everything Spilled
Mira Kale had officially declared Tuesday her least favorite day of the week.
At twenty-two, she worked as a waitress at Lacaste Restaurant—famous for its luxury dishes, fancy clientele, and for being a five-star nightmare to its employees.
It was the usual dinner rush.
The chef shouted, the bell rang, and Mira, being the unlucky next in line, hurried to grab the steaming plate of food.
She turned gracefully—well, as gracefully as someone running on three hours of sleep could—heading toward table nine.
And then, disaster happened.
A man, tall and polished like he just walked out of a magazine, stumbled right into her path.
Mira gasped as the entire tray of food launched itself into the air like a firework and came crashing down—right on his expensive suit.
"Oh no, no, no—!" she cried, but it was too late.
The man froze, covered in sauce and mashed potatoes.
Mira lost her balance and fell backward—right onto another waiter carrying a stack of dirty dishes.
The crash that followed could've won an award for Most Dramatic Restaurant Sound Effect.
Every eye in Lacaste turned toward her. Forks froze midair.
Even the background music seemed to stop out of respect for the chaos.
And folks,that was how Mira Kale's career at Lacaste ended—with a plate of ruined lasagna, one angry millionaire, and her manager apologizing to the man while handing him a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine.
The customer was "always right," apparently—even when the "right" one had two left feet.
Mira, on the other hand, was fired on the spot.
Her salary for the month was revoked, her rent was due, and all she had left to her name was a torn fifty-dollar bill and the dramatic memory of the Great Spaghetti Explosion of Tuesday Night.
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Dragging her tired feet through the city streets, Mira tried to keep her tears from falling.
She wasn't ready to go home—not to her tiny apartment or her growing pile of unpaid bills.
Then, something caught her eye.
Across the street stood a boutique she'd never noticed before.
The sign above the door glimmered faintly under the streetlight, written in elegant ,bold, and cursive:
🧚♂️ "WISH"
Curiosity won over sadness.
What harm could it do to browse? she thought.
.
.
.
.
.
The inside was stunning—cream and gold walls, glossy black tiles, and mannequins dressed in outfits that probably cost more than her rent.
The whole place smelled like luxury and perfume that whispered, "You're too poor to be here."
Still, she wandered around, lost in admiration.
A tiny, glittering dress caught her attention. She flipped the price tag.
$450.
She nearly fainted.
That's not a price tag, that's an insult! She quickly put it back, pretending she'd just been "inspecting the fabric."
That was when a cheerful voice chimed behind her.
"Hi there! I'm Lia.
Are you looking for something in particular?"
Mira turned.
The salesgirl was stunning—sleek ponytail, perfect makeup, stylish outfit.
Next to her, Mira suddenly became very aware of her worn-out jeans and her faded cream crop top that had seen better laundry days.
"Oh—uh, hi," Mira stammered.
"I'm Mira.
I was just… looking around.
(She paused)
Actually, do you have anything for fifty dollars?"
Lia blinked.
Then her eyes slowly swept Mira from head to toe, her lips curving into something between amusement and pity.
"Fifty dollars?" she repeated, like it was a foreign language.
Mira nodded, trying to smile.
After a pause, a mischievous gleam flickered in Lia's eyes.
"I might have something for you.
Follow me."
Mira hesitated.
The tone in Lia's voice was the kind people used right before revealing something questionable—but curiosity (and maybe a little desperation) pushed her forward.
.
.
.
.
.
They walked through a narrow door at the back of the shop.
Instantly, the elegant boutique vanished behind them.
The walls here were bare, made of rough, unpainted bricks forming a tunnel that felt colder with every step.
"Uh, where are we going exactly?" Mira asked, trying to sound brave.
"Don't worry," Lia said with a small, eerie laugh.
"I'm not going to do anything to you."
That reassurance did not help.
Finally, they reached what looked like an old storage room.
Lia pointed at a dusty, vintage-looking bag resting on a shelf.
"There," she said.
"That's what we have for fifty dollars.
Take it or leave it."
Mira walked closer.
The bag was old but beautiful—its mix of deep orange and sky blue shimmered faintly under the dim light.
When her fingers brushed against it, she felt a faint tingle run up her arm.
Odd… but somehow comforting.
"I'll take it," she said.
At least it was something new—something hers.
Lia smiled mysteriously, took her fifty dollars, and led her toward a small back door.
"You can go out this way," she said casually.
Mira frowned.
"What, I can't use the front door now?"
But Lia didn't reply.
She just opened the back door, let Mira step out, and closed it firmly behind her.
The lock clicked.
Mira sighed, clutching her new bag, and started down the street.
She didn't look back.
If she had… she would've seen that the boutique called Wish was gone.
Completely vanished.