Sharon's World
Sharon Lights liked mornings that smelled of rain.
The kind of mornings where the clouds hung low, softening the sharp edges of the world, and the air felt clean enough to breathe in hope. Ravensfield University was awake in its usual rhythm students rushing across the school premises with bags slung carelessly on their shoulders, groups huddled in laughter, a few loners buried in their books as though the universe itself were contained between the pages.
Sharon walked through it all with the grace of someone who never seemed in a hurry, though she always had a destination. At twenty-four, in her third year of Human Nutrition and Dietetics, she had earned a quiet reputation among her peers: the girl who was brilliant but humble, the one who could ace a complex metabolism paper and still offer her notes to a struggling classmate without hesitation.
Her father had told her once that wealth was like fire it could warm a room or burn it down. The Lights family had money, yes, but Sharon had long decided that she would rather let people know her heart before they noticed her shoes. Her sneakers were simple, her tote bag slightly frayed at the edges, and she wore her natural beauty without the armor of expensive brands.
"Sharon!"
She turned at the familiar voice, spotting Vera waving dramatically from the steps of the Nutrition Sciences building. Vera was her opposite in many ways flamboyant, talkative, the kind of girl who wore her confidence like neon. Where Sharon blended into quiet spaces, Vera commanded them.
"You're late," Vera accused, linking arms with her the moment she reached her.
Sharon smiled. "You're early. That's suspicious."
"I have motivation today," Vera announced with a grin. "Dr. Hamid is giving a surprise quiz. I need your brain near me like a talisman."
"You mean you want to copy my answers," Sharon teased, shaking her head as they climbed the steps.
"Borrow," Vera corrected, feigning innocence. "Besides, it's not copying if the universe intended us to succeed together."
Sharon rolled her eyes, though her heart warmed. Vera's friendship was a constant in her life, as steady as the sunrise.
Inside, the lecture hall buzzed with chatter until the professor entered. Sharon settled into her seat, notebook open, pen poised. The subject was Nutritional Biochemistry today—a topic she secretly loved. As the lecture unfolded, she found herself absorbed, her mind sparking with curiosity about how the body worked like a machine powered by the smallest elements.
When the quiz came, Sharon breezed through it. Vera… less so.
"I'm doomed," Vera groaned afterward, crumpling her paper dramatically as they walked out. "Sharon Lights, patron saint of nutrition, pray for me."
"You'll be fine," Sharon said with a small laugh. "You always panic and then pass."
"That's called strategy." Vera's eyes sparkled. Then, lowering her voice: "Speaking of strategy, your boyfriend is waiting."
Sharon's gaze followed Vera's mischievous nod, landing on Zack, leaning casually against a car in the parking lot. Tall, good-looking in a boyish way, Zack had been part of Sharon's life for two years now. At twenty-six, he carried himself with the easy charm of someone used to attention. He wasn't perfect sometimes he was impulsive, sometimes careless but he made Sharon feel seen in a world that often overlooked the quiet ones.
"Sharon," he greeted with a grin, opening his arms. She let herself be pulled into his embrace, warmth blooming in her chest despite the teasing smirk Vera shot her.
"You didn't tell me you were coming," Sharon said softly.
"Surprise," Zack replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I figured you'd need lunch after a long class. Thought I'd steal you for an hour."
Her lips curved. For all his flaws, Zack had a way of showing up when she least expected it. "Fine. But I'm choosing where we eat."
"As long as it's not rabbit food again," he teased, earning a playful swat on the arm.
Vera excused herself with a knowing wink, leaving them to their moment. Sharon climbed into the car, settling into the seat as Zack started the engine. She let herself relax for a while, listening to his stories about work, his complaints about traffic, his laughter that sometimes felt louder than the world could hold.
And yet… somewhere deep inside, Sharon carried a quiet restlessness. It wasn't about Zack, not really. It was about life itself the uncertainty of where she was headed, the weight of responsibility she carried for her family, especially her younger brother Ken. At twenty, Ken still had the reckless energy of youth, and Sharon often found herself worrying over his choices more than he worried himself.
As the car pulled onto the city's main street, Sharon gazed out the window at the skyline of Ravensport the city she had always called home. It was a place of contrasts: glittering towers scraping the clouds, while narrow streets whispered with the struggles of those left behind.
She didn't know it yet, but in another tower not far from here, someone else was staring out a glass wall, lost in his own thoughts. Someone whose world would soon collide with hers, not by chance but by a force neither of them could control.
For now, though, Sharon lived in her own rhythm lectures, friendships, love, family. A simple life, built on kindness.
Leo Smith's World
The glass walls of Smith Global Tower rose above the Ravensport skyline like a blade, cutting into the clouds. Inside its top floor, sunlight spilled across polished mahogany desks and the cold gleam of steel. It was the kind of office that spoke in silence: money, power, and absolute control.
At the heart of it all sat Leo Smith, his sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, the glow of three monitors bathing his face in blue. His eyes sharp, calculating, the color of storm-washed gray moved over a contract as if every line were a battle waiting to be won. He wasn't the kind of man who skimmed; he dissected. Numbers bent for him, logic bowed to him, and yet there was something rigid in his posture, as though every decision carried the weight of legacy rather than choice.
Leo's father had died three years ago, leaving him the throne he never asked for but had no choice but to inherit. Smith Global had been built on his father's iron will, and now every whisper in the boardroom expected Leo to be the same. And he was at least, that's what they believed.
The intercom buzzed, slicing into his thoughts.
"Sir, your mother is here."
Leo's jaw tightened. He leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose before answering. "Send her in."
The glass door slid open, and in walked Evelyn Smith his mother, impeccably dressed in cream silk and pearls, her perfume lingering like command. She never knocked, never hesitated. Her presence was a reminder that though he owned this tower, the foundation of his world still belonged to her.
"Leo." Her voice was warm in tone but cool in intention. She approached his desk, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "You've buried yourself in work again."
"I run a company, Mother. That tends to require attention," Leo said without looking up from his monitor.
"You run yourself into the ground, is what you do." She lowered herself gracefully into the chair opposite him, crossing her legs. "You forget the other half of your responsibilities. The ones your father and I both taught you."
At that, Leo lifted his eyes. "The board is stable. Profits are climbing. I haven't forgotten anything."
"I'm not talking about balance sheets, Leo. I'm talking about family." Her gaze pierced into him, unyielding. "Do you intend to carry this name alone until you turn to stone? Or will you finally think of settling down, before the whispers grow louder?"
The air tightened. It was the same argument they circled back to every few months.
"Marriage isn't a strategy, Mother. And it's not a priority," Leo said flatly.
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "For a man who prides himself on strategy, that's a remarkably short-sighted statement. Marriage is strategy in our world. It's power, it's stability, it's image." She leaned in, lowering her voice. "Do you know how many vultures are waiting to see you fall? To see you fail at what your father built? A wife at your side silences them before they even open their mouths."
Leo's jaw flexed. He hated how she spoke of love as if it were an asset, an accessory to wear like her pearls. He didn't believe in love anyway not the way others romanticized it. He'd seen what it did: how it weakened men, distracted them, gave others the leverage to pull strings. He wasn't going to hand anyone that kind of power.
"Not now," he said, voice edged like glass. "I have bigger concerns than appeasing gossips."
Evelyn studied him, her expression unreadable. Then she stood, smoothing the silk of her blouse. "You can't keep living like this, Leo. A man without warmth becomes a man without allies. Even you can't fight battles forever alone."
Before he could respond, the door opened again, and Nana Smith shuffled in with the gentle insistence of someone who knew she was always welcome. Her silver hair was neatly pinned, her walking cane tapping against the floor as she approached.
"Evelyn, stop lecturing the boy before he suffocates," Nana said, her tone soft but laced with authority. She gave Leo a knowing smile, one that cracked the armor he wore. "Your father worked himself to death. I won't watch you do the same, Leo."
For the first time that morning, his shoulders loosened a fraction. "Good morning, Nana." His voice softened just slightly in her presence. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
"I rest enough," she said with a dismissive wave. "Besides, my blood sugar's fine today. Don't look at me like I'm made of glass." She tapped his desk with her cane. "You think I don't see you, hm? Hiding in this tower, building walls so high no one can climb them? That's not living, Leo. That's waiting to die slowly."
Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Mother, please. Don't start romanticizing nonsense. He has duties"
"Duties won't hold your hand when you're old," Nana interrupted sharply, her cane punctuating her words. "Duties won't laugh with you when the house is quiet. Your father gave his life to this company, and what did it give him back? A grave. Don't follow him down the same path."
Silence stretched in the room. Leo looked away, jaw tight, throat constricting at the raw truth in her words.
He wasn't going to admit it aloud not to his mother, not even to himself but sometimes, in the quiet hours after midnight, he wondered if she was right. The empire he commanded felt less like a throne and more like a cage.
"Enough," Evelyn said finally, her voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "He'll do what he must. He always does." She turned to Leo, adjusting the strap of her pearl bag. "Think about what I said. Legacy isn't just built in boardrooms."
When she swept out of the office, the silence she left behind was heavy.
Nana stayed behind, resting her cane against the chair. She reached out and took Leo's hand something no one else dared do. Her wrinkled fingers squeezed his, fragile but firm.
"You're my grandson," she said softly. "Not just a CEO. Don't forget that, Leo. Please."
For a moment, the storm in his eyes flickered, replaced by something weary, almost vulnerable. Then, as always, the walls closed back up.
"I won't forget, Nana," he said. "But don't expect me to believe in fairy tales."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Fairy tales, no. But maybe… fate."
Leo released her hand and turned back to his screens, burying himself in contracts once more. It was easier that way.
And somewhere, in the shadows of destiny, the storm was already gathering.