Chapter 1

• Luciana's POV:
• The rain had started pouring just as I reached the front step, soaking my duffle bag and the cheap clothes stuffed inside. My shoes squelched with every step, and the icy wind bit at my skin through my thin jacket. I stood there, shivering, staring at the peeling paint on Vanessa’s door, my hand frozen mid-air. I didn’t want to knock, but what other choice did I have?
• I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and finally rapped my knuckles against the door. The sound echoed hollowly, and I cringed, already imagining the look on Vanessa’s face when she opened it.
• I shifted nervously, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. I felt pathetic, standing there on her doorstep like a stray dog in the rain. My life had fallen apart faster than I ever thought possible. My mind replayed the chain of disasters that had brought me to this moment—my job gone, my landlord kicking me out after I couldn’t pay rent for months, and every other door I’d knocked on slamming in my face.
• The door creaked open, and there she was—Vanessa. Her black curls were tied up in a messy bun, and her face was a mixture of confusion and irritation. She didn’t say anything at first, just stared at me, her eyes flicking down to the drenched bag at my feet.
• I forced a weak smile, though my lips were trembling from the cold. “Hey, Vanessa,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
• “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, her tone sharp, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.
• “I—I didn’t know where else to go,” I admitted, my voice cracking. My throat felt tight, and I could feel the hot sting of tears threatening to spill. “I just… I need a place to stay. Just for a little while.”
• Her eyebrows shot up, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “A little while?” she repeated, her voice skeptical.
• I nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’ll figure something out soon, I promise. I just need time. Please, Vanessa.”
• She sighed, her expression softening just a fraction. She leaned against the doorframe, studying me for a long moment. I could feel her hesitation, the way she was weighing her options.
• “Fine,” she said finally, stepping aside to let me in. “But just for a little while.”
• I felt a rush of relief so strong it nearly knocked me over. “Thank you,” I whispered, clutching my bag tightly as I stepped inside. The warmth of the house wrapped around me, but it didn’t stop the chill I felt deep in my bones.
• Every morning, I woke up early and scoured job listings online. I sent out resumes, walked into stores, restaurants—anywhere that had a "Help Wanted" sign—and left my name and number. I told Vanessa every evening that something would come through, that I just needed more time.
• But days turned into weeks, and then weeks slipped into months. The rejection emails piled up, and the few interviews I managed to get went nowhere. "We’re looking for someone with more experience," they’d say, or "We’ll be in touch," which was always a lie.
• And the longer I stayed at Vanessa’s, the heavier the air between us became.
• “Luciana,” Vanessa snapped one evening as she slammed the fridge door shut, her tone cutting through the silence. “Are you planning to contribute to groceries anytime soon? Or should I just start labeling my food now?”
• I flinched, sitting stiffly on the couch with my laptop perched on my knees. “I’m trying, Vanessa,” I said quietly, my voice small. “I’ve been applying to everything I can find. It’s just... hard.”
• “Hard?” she repeated, spinning around to glare at me. Her curls bounced with the movement, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You’ve been living here for six months, Luciana. Six months. Do you know how much rent costs in this city? Because I’ve been covering all of it, in case you forgot.”
• Her words stung, but I kept my eyes glued to the laptop screen, pretending to scroll through job listings. My face burned with shame, but I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? She wasn’t wrong.
• “And don’t even get me started on the utilities,” she continued, her voice rising. “Do you think electricity is free? Or water? Or the internet you’re using right now to… I don’t even know what you’re doing, Luciana. Are you actually looking for jobs, or just browsing Instagram?”
• “I am looking for jobs,” I said defensively, though my voice lacked any real strength.
• Vanessa laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Right. Because that’s worked out so well so far, hasn’t it?” She turned away, muttering under her breath as she opened the cabinet and grabbed a box of pasta.
• “I’m trying,” I said again, softer this time.
• “Well, try harder!” she snapped, slamming the cabinet shut. The sound echoed through the small apartment, making me flinch again. She spun back around, her eyes blazing with frustration. “Do you know how humiliating it is for me to keep covering for you? To scrape together every last cent I have to keep a roof over both our heads while you just… sit here?”
• “I’m not just sitting here,” I said weakly, though the words felt hollow even to me.
• Vanessa laughed again, the sound sharp and cruel. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what you’re doing. Sitting here, eating my food, using my Wi-Fi, and making empty promises.”
• Her words cut deep, but I didn’t have the energy to fight back. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I blinked them away, refusing to let her see me cry.
• “I’ll figure something out,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
• “Yeah?” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “When? When the landlord kicks us both out because I can’t pay the rent? Or when the lights get turned off because the bills are overdue? Because let me tell you, Luciana, I’m not going down with you. If you can’t get your act together, then maybe it’s time you found somewhere else to stay.”
• Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and oppressive. I stared at her, my chest tight, but she didn’t wait for a response. She grabbed the pasta and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with the weight of her anger—and my own crushing guilt.
• The apartment was quiet again, but it didn’t feel peaceful. The silence was thick with tension, suffocating me as I sat there on the couch, staring blankly at the laptop screen. I could hear the distant sound of Vanessa’s bedroom door closing, followed by the faint hum of her music.
• I wanted to get up, to go to her and promise that I’d fix everything, but what was the point? Promises didn’t mean anything anymore. Not when I’d already broken so many of them.
• The Next day...
• A knock echoed through the silence...
• The knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. I was sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring at my laptop screen, pretending to look for jobs but really just scrolling aimlessly through listings I couldn’t land.
• When I opened the door, there he was—Marcus, Vanessa's boyfriend. Tall, broad-shouldered, with that confident smirk he always seemed to wear like a badge. His sharp jawline was dusted with a five o’clock shadow, and his cologne wafted toward me—a mix of cedar and something spicy.
• “Luciana,” he said smoothly, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Vanessa home?”
• I shook my head, gripping the edge of the door tighter. “She’s not here. She went to visit her aunt in Queens.”
• Marcus raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly against the doorframe. “Queens, huh?” He looked amused, like he didn’t quite believe me. “Any idea when she’ll be back?”
• “No,” I said quickly. “Not until later tonight, I think.”
• For a moment, I thought that would be enough. That he’d nod, say he’d come back later, and leave. But of course, Marcus wasn’t the type to take no for an answer.
• “Mind if I come in?” he asked, already stepping forward as if it were a foregone conclusion.
• I hesitated, blocking the doorway slightly. “Um… do you really need to? She’s not here, Marcus. Maybe you should just call her instead?”
• He tilted his head, that smirk of his deepening. “What, you’re kicking me out already? I just got here.”
• “I’m not—” I started, but he cut me off with a soft chuckle, brushing past me into the apartment before I could protest further.
• “Relax, Luciana,” he said, glancing around the small space like he owned it. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just figured I’d hang out for a bit. Vanessa won’t mind.”
• I swallowed hard, closing the door behind him as I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. Something about Marcus always put me on edge—the way he looked at me, the way he moved, like he was always two steps ahead and knew it.
• “She really isn’t home,” I said again, my voice quieter this time.
• “Yeah, I heard you the first time,” he replied, dropping onto the couch like he belonged there. He spread his arms along the backrest, his legs casually splayed, and looked up at me with a crooked grin. “Guess it’s just the two of us then, huh?”
• I stood frozen by the door, unsure of what to do or say. There was something unsettling about the way his eyes lingered on me, the way his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes.
• “Relax,” he said again, patting the cushion beside him. “Come sit. I don’t bite.”
• But the way he said it, the way his gaze darkened ever so slightly, made my skin crawl.