Trevor pov
Trevor woke up before the alarm rang.
The room was quiet, except for the soft sound of traffic outside the window. The ceiling above him had a long crack running across it. He had seen that crack every morning for the past three years. Some days, he imagined it growing wider, like his problems.
He sat up slowly and rubbed his face. His body felt heavy. Not because he was lazy, but because life had a way of pressing down on him.
He reached for his phone on the small table beside the bed. The screen lit up. No missed calls. No new messages. He opened his banking app anyway, even though he already knew what he would see.
The balance was low. Very low.
Trevor let out a slow breath.
"It's fine," he said quietly to himself. "Just keep going."
He stood up and stretched. The room was small. A bed, a table, a chair, and a tiny kitchen corner. Everything he owned could fit into two bags. He once told himself this was temporary. He still believed that, even when doubt tried to creep in.
He washed his face in the bathroom sink and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes looked tired, but there was still something strong in them. He liked that part of himself.
"You won't stay here forever," he said.
Trevor put on his jacket and grabbed his delivery bag. The air outside was cold. The city was already awake. People walked past him in neat clothes, holding coffee cups and phones. Expensive cars moved smoothly down the road.
Trevor got on his bike and began riding.
As he moved through the streets, his mind wandered. He thought about ideas. Business ideas. Ways out. He had many thoughts but little money. Still, he believed thinking was the first step.
At work, his manager barely looked at him.
"You're late," the man said.
"It's eight on the dot," Trevor replied calmly.
The manager frowned. "Just do your job."
Trevor nodded and went to collect his packages. He didn't argue. He had learned that arguing with people who didn't care was a waste of energy.
By noon, his legs hurt and his stomach growled. He stopped at a small shop and bought the cheapest sandwich. As he ate, he watched people inside a café across the street. They laughed and talked like life was easy.
One day, he told himself.
Later that evening, Trevor got a delivery request to a high-end hotel. He hesitated. Those places always made him uncomfortable. But work was work.
He arrived at the hotel just as cars began pulling up for a big event. Lights flashed. Cameras clicked. Well-dressed people stepped out, smiling for the world.
Trevor held his package and walked toward the entrance, careful not to get in anyone's way.
That was when he saw her.
She stepped out of a black car. Everything about her looked calm and controlled. Her dress was simple but elegant. Her face was beautiful, but what caught Trevor's attention was her expression.
She looked… tired.
Not tired like him. Tired in a quiet way. Like someone who carried too much responsibility.
Their eyes met for a brief second.
Trevor looked away quickly. He didn't belong here.
But when he looked again, she was still watching him.
"I'm sorry," he said without thinking. "I'll move."
She shook her head. "You're fine."
Her voice was soft. Not cold. That surprised him.
"It's loud in there," Trevor said, gesturing toward the hotel.
She smiled slightly. "Yes. Too loud."
They stood there, not saying much, but somehow saying enough.
"I'm Trevor," he said, then paused. He didn't know why he said it.
"Emma," she replied.
Just name.No title.No status
For the first time that day Trevor felt like he was standing on equal ground with someone .