Chapter 1
LYRA
Some days are so exhausting, the only blessing I beg for is a seat on the subway. It’s not too much to ask for, is it? My feet ache with every step down into the station, my metro card ready in my hand. A double shift is no joke in any profession, but health care? That’s where things get real.
I pass the turnstiles and take the second flight of stairs deeper into the station.
The escalators are all moving upward, so there’s none for me to use.
I know climbing up the stairs is harder than descending, but today my feet are too sore.
All I need is a warm bath and to put them up.
These shoes are amazing, but there’s a limit even to the best of them.
After going into the station in an almost trance, I look around me as I reach the waiting area.
It’s quite crowded today. There’s a bunch of people in band t-shirts.
Is there a concert going on or something?
I wouldn’t know, that’s for sure. It’s late morning, not quite in the way of the rush hour.
A concert, then. The only thing up this way is either a residential area, that concert hall, or the assembly hall.
No one’s going to the assembly dressed in punk band t-shirts... But isn’t it early for concerts?
Oh, wait. It’s Sunday. Yeah, maybe there’s a concert this early.
I keep forgetting the days of the week, with me working all the time, come holidays and weekends and whatever.
The good part is that I have no family, so no one to disappoint.
Besides, with me working the weekends, my colleagues that do have families can take these off and enjoy them.
A pang of sadness hits me. Should be used to the loneliness by now.
My parents were never the loving kind. They were honest about having me fulfill their duty to society, and that’s all.
They had never wanted kids, and it showed in the way they dismissed me every single time.
When I was twelve, they let me know I should be ready to move out of the house by sixteen, an age they thought appropriate to live by myself.
I thought it was a joke. An empty threat.
It wasn’t.
They kicked me out the day after I turned sixteen.
A couple of months in a temporary house put me back on my feet.
I got two part-time jobs and finished high school, sharing a tiny room with three other girls, much in the same situation as I was.
Nailed a scholarship and got a free ride to college.
That’s where everything changed. I found a purpose in life—helping people out—even when my parents made it clear they never loved me.
And I was silly enough to believe things might change with time.
I would graduate, work hard, show them my worth, and then they’d learn to love me.
Destiny had other plans. Both my parents died in a car crash years ago without ever returning my calls.
It hurt at first and then, like every other thing in my life, I learned to accept it. Learned to live with it.
The train arrives, making me blink rapidly in surprise. Got lost in thoughts again. Maybe it’s because of exhaustion. I could sleep standing. And, as the train stops, I realize I might have to do that. The train is packed full, like a sardine can. At least the concert hall stop is before mine.
God, I hate the subway.
I squeeze myself in. Some people complain.
Others shoot me dirty looks. Yeah, yeah, I get it.
I’m fat, so I take the space of two people.
My large hips bump against a couple of distracted guys, listening to music out loud.
They sneer at me. That’s not even new. I gave up on trying to prove that being fat doesn’t mean being bad or unhealthy.
I’m a nurse, for freak’s sake. There’s a huge chance I exercise in a day what these people exercise in a month.
And I eat healthy, though I consume a bit too much caffeine.
God forbid the day I have to slow down with coffee.
And to think that, a couple of centuries ago, being curvy like me was seen as sexy and attractive.
Things change, and not always for the better.
Whatever. I don’t need to get out there and try to prove anyone anything.
I’ve accepted my lot in life is keeping people safe and healthy, and that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.
We arrive at the concert hall station. I have to hang on tight not to be dragged with the tide out of the car.
Now that the train is emptying, I can finally take a seat.
I release a huge sigh, my feet thanking me.
Then I look up and at the corner of the train, right in front of me, I meet the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
The man standing there is so big I’m surprised I haven’t noticed him until now.
He’s in a black hoodie and black pants, his face turned toward me.
I part my lips, my heart accelerating. Holy moly, he’s so handsome.
All sharp lines, as if God drew him with a ruler.
And those shoulders? He’s so broad he’ll have to cross the door by himself.
I’ve never seen someone this big, this bulky, this... burly.
My body warms up. He’s looking straight at me.
He doesn’t look away, doesn’t sneer, doesn’t look disgusted or anything.
It’s just those deep blue eyes staring at me.
He must be older, like twice my age, if the white hairs on his stubble are a sign.
I swallow hard. Never had any particular feelings toward a man older than me, but this guy makes my blood fizzle.
My fingers go numb, and I have to close and open my hand.
I look away, pretending we haven’t been in a staring contest, but my lips stretch into a smile.
When I glance at him again, he has looked away, but his gaze moves back to meet mine as if we’re in a bubble. Just the two of us. The stuff of dreams.
I’ve never felt this attracted to anyone. God, let him ask me out. I hope he asks me out. There are some old business cards in my purse, and I could give one to him so he can call me later and...
The voice on the comm announces the next station. My heart skips a beat. It’s my station. He won’t have the time to ask me out! I shoot to my feet, going to the door. Should I do something? Won’t he?
What if I do nothing and miss this one chance at finding someone?
My heart beats so fast that I almost forget the pain in my feet. Then they move on their own. I approach the blue-eyed stranger, stick a hand into my purse, and pull a card. His eyes widen an inch when I stop right in front of him. His expression reveals nothing.
“Hi,” I start, my voice shaky, and offer the card. Not awkward at all. “This is... my phone number. In case. You know...” Say it, Lyra! Oh my God, don’t stand there stuttering. Heat spreads across my cheeks, making it hard to speak. “If you ever want to... I don’t know, grab a coffee.”
The train halts to a stop. I stumble. He reaches out and keeps me on my feet, warm hands pressing into my shoulders. I step away once I get my balance. He takes the card but says nothing else. Did I surprise him? Girls usually don’t take the initiative, I get that, but...
Oh, yeah. My station.
I rush to the doors and leave the car. At least I put myself out there. With one glance over my shoulder, I search for the mysterious man as the train doors close. I hope he’s glancing back at me, a hopeful look on his face, something like adoration...
He’s staring again, at the same spot I had been sitting.
A blond woman, typing away at her computer, is seated behind the spot I was.
Realization is a stone dropping into my stomach.
He had been staring at her. She looks older than me, closer to his age, but she’s still beautiful, with rich blond hair and a skinny body.
Tears sting the back of my eyes. The train leaves.
What a fool. What a stupid, hopeful fool I was.
Thinking a man like him was interested in me.
Of course not. He was looking at the woman sitting behind me.
And now they’ll have a story to share when he asks her out.
They’ll laugh at the fat girl who gave him her number when he never showed any interest.
I make my way home in record time, then burst into embarrassed tears. God, I need a bath now more than ever. I pop a bottle of wine open and take it with me to the bathroom. Here’s to being rejected. Here’s to being alone for the rest of days.