I had always loved summer—truly loved it. But never more so than during vacation, when time slowed down and the pressure of daily responsibilities melted away. There was something magical about waking up to warm sunlight knowing I didn't need to glance at the clock or worry about racing off to work. No deadlines. No commutes. Just freedom.
Vacations were the sweetest when spent far from home, preferably in a different country, where even the air felt new. And still, I could hardly believe it—I was actually in New York City, soaking up an unforgettable week in the company of my best friend and her daughter.
Mike had planned to join us, but as always, life got in the way. A situation at work forced him to cancel his time off. And so it was just the three of us—ladies only—and honestly, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I sat on a bench in Central Park, the late afternoon sun warming my skin as I closed my eyes and let the sounds of the world wash over me. The birds sang above me in the trees, their chirping peaceful, grounding. A soft breeze brushed across my cheeks, carrying the scent of blooming grass and distant food carts. Eve was walking with Lilly a short distance away, their laughter blending harmoniously with the symphony of the city.
And as I sat there, I slipped into my thoughts again.
Would I ever fall in love a second time?
Was it possible?
Or did we only get one real shot at true love in this lifetime—the kind that imprints itself so deeply into our souls, no amount of time or space could erase it?
Maybe that was why so many of us carried that one person with us, tucked into our memories like a pressed flower between the pages of a long-closed book. Whether they left us whole or broken didn't matter. What mattered was that they stayed.
For me, that person was Felix.
No matter how much time passed, I couldn't forget him. I didn't want to. His face would come to me in dreams, in quiet moments like this, when the world slowed just enough for my heart to speak.
I had thought that cutting contact with him would bring me peace. After all, he had been placed in a safe environment, one where he could heal, and I had told myself it was best for both of us. But in truth, the silence gnawed at me. It left a hollow ache where closure should have been.
I wondered often: was he okay now? Had he improved? Did he still remember me?
Would he even recognize me if I walked into that hospital room?
"Auntie!" a small voice shouted, bursting through my spiral of thoughts.
I opened my eyes and saw Lilly—laughing, radiant, running toward me with joy glowing on her face. She was her father's mirror image, right down to the playful twinkle in her eyes. My heart softened instantly.
She reached me and proudly held up a white flower she had picked, its petals delicate, almost glowing in the golden sunlight.
"Isn't it lovely?" she asked, holding it close to my face.
"It's as beautiful as you are," I replied, gently pinching her cheek with affection.
Giggling, she turned and raced back to her mother, repeating the compliment with all the pride in the world. I watched as Eve knelt beside her, smoothing Lilly's hair back with a smile that radiated pure love.
In that moment, I felt something shift in my chest. This—this was happiness. This was what it meant to have people you could count on. Eve and Mike had built something beautiful together, something unshakable. And even though I was not part of a family like theirs, they had never once made me feel like I was on the outside.
I was lucky. So lucky.
And yet… there was still that part of me that wondered, that hoped.
Would my heart ever feel whole again?
*
That afternoon, we stopped at a small sushi restaurant tucked between towering buildings, its glass windows steaming slightly from the heat inside. The place was buzzing with life—every table was taken, and the clatter of plates mingled with bursts of laughter and rapid conversations in at least three different languages. It had to be good. A place this crowded on a weekday afternoon was a clear sign the food was something special.
We wandered between tables for a while, weaving through people and half-apologizing to waiters, before finally finding a spot in the corner. The moment we sat down, a waiter hurried over with menus, and we placed our order quickly. Then we slipped into easy conversation, answering a barrage of enthusiastic questions from Lilly, who—as always—was insatiably curious about everything.
She asked why sushi was cold, if raw fish could swim in your stomach, and whether the waiter had a secret tattoo. Eve and I answered her seriously, laughing quietly when her questions got particularly creative.
In the middle of our meal, as I reached for another piece of salmon nigiri, I felt it—that eerie sensation of being watched. The kind that makes your spine straighten and your skin prickle, like invisible fingers brushing the back of your neck.
I paused, brows furrowing, and slowly glanced over my shoulder.
Nothing.
Just more people eating, talking, drinking tea. Still, the feeling lingered like smoke that refused to dissipate.
Maybe I was just imagining things. Again. It wouldn't be the first time I'd convinced myself someone was watching me, only to find nothing but shadows and strangers.
Paranoia. That's what it was.
Just as I reached for my tea, two voices behind us caught my attention.
"The mob's here," one woman whispered, and I tensed. "They're sitting in the VIP room. This place is one of their favorites. The boss supposedly has ties with them."
I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but those words stopped me cold.
The mob?
Curiosity flared like a match being lit. I leaned slightly toward the table without meaning to, trying to catch more, but the conversation quickly shifted to something less intriguing.
"What is it?" Eve asked, narrowing her eyes at me.
I leaned in and whispered, "The Mafia's here. In the VIP room."
Her eyes widened in something that looked alarmingly like excitement. "They're here? In the same restaurant?"
I brought a finger to my lips to shush her. "Keep your voice down."
"I wonder if they're handsome..." she added under her breath.
I rolled my eyes and gave her a look. "Blondie, you have a wonderful daughter and a pretty great guy."
"Don't sound like my mother," she said with a smirk. "I can look, can't I? As long as I'm not touching, it's harmless. Besides,"—she beamed—"just don't tell your father," she added, this time directing her words to Lilly.
The little girl crossed her arms with exaggerated seriousness. "Daddy is the coolest in the whole world."
"You're right, sweetheart," I said, grinning as I watched Eve melt under her daughter's conviction. "Your daddy's the best."
"Take care of my baby. I need the restroom," Eve said, already sliding from her seat.
I nodded, and as she disappeared into the crowd, Lilly picked up a piece of sushi with her fingers—despite our earlier instructions to use chopsticks—and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes drifted to something behind me, going wide with interest.
"What are you looking at?" I asked as she chewed.
I turned in the same direction, expecting to see maybe a fish tank or another child, but instead, I saw him.
A man stood near the glass door of the restaurant, just outside. He had a cigarette between his fingers, the tip glowing briefly as he took a long drag. The smoke curled from his lips slowly, lazily, like he had all the time in the world. He leaned against the wall in a relaxed posture, his head turned slightly to the side, as though something amused him.
There was something magnetic about him.
Then he looked straight at me.
Our eyes met, and in that moment, I felt... paralyzed. My heart stuttered against my ribs, my breath caught somewhere between surprise and something deeper—something dangerous. He wasn't just handsome. He was stunning, almost unreal. A deadly kind of beautiful.
His black hair was long enough to be tied back in a loose ponytail, and he wore dark clothes that hugged his lean frame, emphasizing the confident ease with which he held himself. His skin was pale, almost luminous, like moonlight against shadows.
And the way he looked at me—like he knew me, like he saw something in me I didn't even see myself—was enough to shake me.
He dropped the cigarette, crushed it under his heel, and then… walked away.
I didn't move. Not even when Eve came back and tapped my shoulder.
"Earth to Seri," she said, eyebrows raised. "You okay?"
I blinked a few times. "What?"
"I said, while I was in the bathroom, I overheard some girls talking about a street race tomorrow. Want to go?"
I looked at her, still dazed. "And how do you know where it's going to be?"
Eve grinned like a cat who'd just stolen something shiny. She held up her phone and tapped the screen. "Nothing's impossible when I've got Wi-Fi and two curious ears."
I glanced at Lilly, who was now focused on building a tower out of soy sauce packets. "You sure about this? You've got a kid to think about."
Eve paused for a moment, considering. Then her eyes lit up with mischief. "My kid is well cared for. What's the problem? Lilly will be fast asleep while her mom dominates the streets."
I laughed under my breath, scratching at my eyebrow. "Cool. I'm not about to interfere with your decisions."
Though deep inside, I couldn't shake the image of that man—the stranger with the eyes like a storm.
*
I didn't understand why I kept doing this to myself—why I let Eve talk me into her wild ideas every single time.
I loved street races. Back in Los Angeles, they had a certain energy, a rhythm I was familiar with. I knew the people, the cars, the rules of the game. But here in New York, everything felt off. Foreign. Like I had stepped into someone else's dream—or maybe their nightmare. I didn't belong here, and every nerve in my body knew it.
Maybe it was because we were only here by accident—by eavesdropping. Because Eve had overheard a conversation in a public restroom and decided that chasing whispers through a city we barely knew was somehow a good idea.
The moment we arrived, I knew this wasn't like home.
The women here wore almost nothing. Their shorts clung to their bodies like second skin, their movements confident and suggestive. They laughed and teased the men, brushing hands over exposed backs and squeezing into tight embraces. It was part of the show, I supposed—an added attraction to the roar of engines and flashing headlights.
I stood there in jeans and a simple white T-shirt, feeling like a ghost among neon signs. Even Eve had dressed for the scene—tight black latex pants and a tiny crop top that glittered under the streetlights.
"I feel like I've stepped into a fairytale," she said with wide eyes.
If this was a fairytale, it was the kind where the wolves were real and the forest never let you leave.
"I don't like this," I admitted quietly, but she was already slipping away into the crowd.
The first race began, and the crowd exploded in noise. People shouted names I didn't recognize, jumping in place as tires screeched and engines screamed like demons racing through hell. It was chaos. Beautiful, electric chaos—but it didn't feel like mine.
"Let's go up front!" Eve shouted over the noise.
"I'll stay here," I replied, clutching my bag a little tighter.
"Fine! Don't move! I'll be right back!" She pointed at me as she vanished into the throng.
I stayed rooted in place, watching bodies move like waves in a restless sea. My mouth felt dry. I looked around, searching for something to drink, and noticed a booth nearby where people were walking away with plastic cups of beer. I headed toward it, determined to find something—anything—to cool down the tension twisting inside me.
But then someone stepped directly into my path.
I looked up—and froze.
It was him.
The man from the sushi restaurant. The one who had looked at me like he saw straight through my skin.
Now, standing just inches away, he was even more overwhelming. His beauty was harsh—predatory. His black pants clung to lean hips, and his long dark hair was pulled back, a single strand falling loose over his cheek. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets, like he had all the time in the world to ruin mine.
"Well, look at this lost little lamb," he said, his voice laced with mockery.
I tried to move around him, but he shifted with me, blocking my path again and again. My pulse raced.
"I just want to buy something to drink," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
He tilted his head, studying me like a puzzle he intended to break.
"I was hoping you'd show up to my race," he said softly, eyes never leaving mine.
His race?
My chest tightened.
Was this a trap?
Had Eve walked us straight into something dangerous without even realizing it?
"I didn't want to come," I answered carefully. "My friend convinced me."
He smiled, slow and dark. "Some people shouldn't show up in certain places," he said. "Just like some people shouldn't show up in others' lives."
His words hit me like a slap.
Cold spread through my limbs.
"I don't know what you mean," I whispered. "I don't even know you."
His smile deepened, and he leaned in so close I could feel the heat of his breath against my ear.
"I'm thirsty too," he murmured. "Thirsty for revenge."
A shiver tore down my spine.
The moment he stepped back, I slipped past him, hurrying to the booth. My hand shook as I asked for a bottle of water, barely able to focus on the vendor. I glanced over my shoulder—he was still watching me.
His thumb brushed slowly over his lower lip.
And then he turned and walked away.
My hand trembled so badly I nearly dropped the bottle as I unscrewed it. I gulped down the water, desperate to steady my racing heart. My skin still prickled from his nearness, my stomach knotted with unease.
What was wrong with him? What did he want from me?
I found an empty chair near the edge of the lot and sank down, trying to breathe through the panic. My pulse was wild, my thoughts spinning out of control. It had to be stress. Just stress. But the world tilted sharply, and a wave of dizziness crashed into me like a blow.
My vision blurred.
Voices faded.
The last thing I remembered was someone grabbing my shoulders just before I collapsed.
And then—
"It's okay. You're safe. I'll take care of you."
That voice. I knew that voice. I was certain of it.