On June 07, 2032, Avery stared at the blinking cursor on her office computer, half-listening to the hum of the air conditioner. The pandemic had stretched time thin, every day bleeding into the next. She had spent the last year stitching herself back together after a breakup that had cracked her open, and though she had finally learned how to laugh again, something still felt unfinished—like a scar that tingled when the weather changed.
Her title sounded impressive as a Marketing Manager at one of the city's largest malls but the numbers on her paycheck told a smaller, crueler truth. The late nights, the endless events, the pressure to hit targets that never quite satisfied her bosses… it all weighed heavier than the sleek badge clipped to her blazer. Resignation wasn't just a thought anymore; it was pacing inside her like a restless animal.
Days passed, and one evening her phone lit up with a familiar name: Adnan. She swiped to answer.
"Hey, Avery," his voice carried that familiar warmth. "Listen, my wife's office has an opening. Same position as yours, but trust me, much better pay."
Avery chuckled, half in disbelief. "Better pay, huh? That's not a high bar."
"You should try," Adnan pressed. "I'll send your CV in."
"I don't know…" Avery's voice softened. "Feels like too big of a leap. It's the No. 1 Mall here, Adnan. People line up for that spot."
"Just try," he said simply. "Don't overthink."
She sighed, smiling despite herself. "Fine. But only because it's you asking."
That night, she pieced together a quick CV, hit send, and never mentioned it again.
Days slipped by with no update from Adnan. Avery kept her head down, creating events, managing partnerships, smiling through meetings, and living inside the rhythm of routine. She was bored, yes, but she knew how to make boredom look like dedication.
Then one evening stretched longer than the rest. An event ran late, and she and her work friends stayed behind to wrap it up. When the stage lights finally dimmed, no one wanted to go home just yet.
"Come on," Rose, her colleague, grinned, waving a controller. "One game. Winner gets coffee tomorrow."
Avery rolled her eyes but sat down anyway. "Fine. But I'm telling you now Rose, I'm terrible at this."
"You always say that," another friend laughed, "and then you destroy us."
Their laughter spilled into the quiet office, controllers clicking, voices echoing against the empty walls. Hours blurred until 12:30 a.m.
When Avery finally prepared to clock out, she moved with her quiet rituals—double-checking that no papers or bags were left behind, exchanging tired but warm goodbyes.
"Don't fall asleep on the road," Rose teased as Avery slung her bag over her shoulder.
"No promises," Avery shot back with a smirk.
She walked to the basement, the echo of her footsteps mingling with the late-night hum of the building. Settling onto her motorcycle seat, she lingered, her thoughts drifting where they always seemed to circle back: Phoebe.
Her ex's name still tasted bittersweet. Tonight of all nights, the urge to reach out clawed harder—Phoebe's birthday. Avery whispered into the still air, "Happy birthday, Pheebs."
She even imagined showing up, just for a moment. But the thought felt wrong, intrusive, like stepping into a life that no longer belonged to her.
The sudden roar of another motorcycle passing jolted her back. She blinked, gripping her handlebars tighter, reminding herself: Phoebe wasn't hers anymore. She had a new girlfriend now. That chapter was closed, no matter how loud her heart tried to rewrite it.
On the way home, Avery slipped in her AirPods, trying to drown the ache. Music filled her ears, and she sang softly along, letting the lyrics blur her thoughts. The night air cooled her cheeks, the city lights smeared into streaks as she drove. A wave of drowsiness tugged at her, and soon her body moved on autopilot, turns and lanes taken without thought.
When she leaned into a right turn, she didn't notice the danger until it was too late. A flash of light, the echo of a horn, then the world spun. Everything collapsed into black.
Her last conscious thought wasn't of fear—it was of Phoebe. You could have loved me better, she thought bitterly, as if sending the words into the void. Somewhere in the darkness came the sound of a crash, shattering into her silence. Then nothing.