POV: Elara Quinn
Rain has its way of stripping the city of pretense. It wasn't romantic, it wasn't cinematic, and it certainly wasn't forgiving. It was honest, unflinching, exposing everything it touched.
Elara Quinn stood under the thin metal shelter of the bus stop, her coat soaked at the edges, her hair damp and sticking to her forehead. Puddles spread across the cracked concrete, reflecting the gray sky like broken mirrors. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm, trying to steady the nervous energy that had taken root in her stomach.
She tightened her finger around her folder, the paper slightly damp at the edges. Résumés, recommendation letters, and application forms for her future, all wrapped in a thin cardboard folder. Every word inside had been carefully chosen, every line a piece of her hope.
"Okay, Elara Quinn," she whispered under her breath. "One step at a time. Just one step."
The wind whipped past her, sneaking icy fingers under her coat, blowing her hair. She shivered, but she didn't let it stop her. She had learned a long time ago that discomfort was temporary; failure could be permanent.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out with trembling hands.
"Hey! How are you? Nervous for today?"
It was Lena, her best friend since college, the one person who had seen her at her worst and still treated her like family. A girl who could make the lonely nights of orphanage life feel a little less bitter.
Elara smiled faintly. "Hey… yeah. A little. Just hoping this interview goes well. Fingers crossed."
"You got this! I believe in you. Remember, you're smart, capable, and nothing can stop you if you put your mind to it. Just breathe."
Elara let herself exhale, a little warmth blooming in her chest. Lena always had a way of making her feel less invisible, less like a person scraping by unnoticed.
But reality returned with the cold drizzle. Her apartment rent was overdue. The fridge was empty except for a few protein bars and some chips. Her café shifts barely covered half her expenses. Every day was a balancing act of bills, survival, and the relentless pursuit of something more.
She was dropped at the orphanage when she was rescued from the accident that killed her parents so has been an orphan as long as she could remember. Foster homes that changed every few months, she has always prayed and waited to be adopted by a family but that prayer was never answered, so she learned how to leave alone, spent birthdays alone, watching other children leave with parents she would never know. She had learned early that relying on anyone was a mistake. She had learned that life did not care whether she cried, went hungry, or dreamed bigger than her circumstances allowed.
Yet she refused to break. That had been her rule since she could remember. No matter what life threw at her, no matter how often it knocked her down, she would get back up.
This job, this interview, was another chance to prove that. Not to anyone else, but to herself.
The bus arrived late, groaning under the weight of tired commuters. Elara squeezed inside, brushing against strangers, her folder pressed to her chest like armor. She was always squeezed in. Always fought for space. Always survived.
She found a corner to stand in, heels tapping nervously against the floor. The bus smelled faintly of wet coats, coffee, and human fatigue. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining a life where the stress wasn't constant, where she could breathe without thinking of rent or food or bills.
She thought of Lena again. I want her kind of life, she mused silently. A life where people believed in her, where support didn't have to be fought for.
The bus rumbled through puddles, water splashing against the sides, and Elara clutched her folder tighter. Survival had been her default for years. But living, that was something she had to earn every day. Every step. Every opportunity.
When the bus finally let her off near the business district, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, leaving a slick sheen over the pavement. Towering glass buildings rose into the clouds, reflecting her fragmented image in shards of light and shadow.
Her stomach twisted not with fear but with determination. "I belong here," she whispered. Even if no one was listening. Even if the city didn't care. She had earned the right to step forward, to fight for herself, to prove that survival wasn't enough anymore.
As she walked faster, heels clicking and puddles splashing around her, she allowed herself a brief fantasy. One day, she would stride into a place like this, head held high, confidence radiating. Not because anyone handed it to her but because she had worked for it, clawed for it, and bled for it.
Her phone buzzed again. Lena's name flashed across the screen.
"How's it going? Don't tell me you're freaking out."
Elara laughed softly despite the tension, typing quickly:
"I'm almost there… praying I don't make a fool of myself."
"You won't. You're amazing, El. Just remember: breathe. Smile. Show them you're not a girl who survives, show them a woman who lives."
Elara stared at the phone, letting Lena's words sink in. She wanted to live. Not just exist. Not just scrape by another day. She wanted a life where she had choices, freedom, and the ability to stand tall.
The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
Because living meant taking risks. Living meant vulnerability. Living meant believing in herself despite every hardship life had thrown at her.
And she was ready.
She squared her shoulders, adjusted the folder once more, and stepped forward into the building, the rain dripping from her coat onto the slick marble floor. Each step she takes sounded like a heartbeat of determination.
She had survived everything else.
She could survive this.
But as she glanced back at the streets, water gleaming in every puddle, she had no idea that her life was about to collide with something or someone completely unexpected.
A storm far more unpredictable than the rain was already gathering.
She went in waited sat down nervously waiting for her name to be called, a guy came and her name she was called she went in, and met a lady and two men dressed lavishly, she admired them and subconsciously prayed she be like them one day, they asked for her qualifications which she gave and after so many questions, they lady said, "alright thank you for coming you will receive a message from us for the second phase of the interview if you scale through so you will meet our boss."
She agreed to shake their hands, smiling politely, and said. "Thank you, I will be expecting your message. Have a good day." She stood up and left outside the building.
The cold air hit her skin.
In the reflection of the building's glass doors, she thought she saw movement, a shadow. Watching. Waiting. And for the first time in years, Elara Quinn felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
Something was coming. Something that would change everything.