Dawn hurried through the icy streets of New York, her breath misting in the cold air. The festive glow of Christmas decorations still lingered—snow-dusted wreaths, twinkling lights, and forgotten Santas perched in storefronts. The holiday had passed, but the city seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the New Year to roll in.
She tightened her coat around her, her phone clutched in one gloved hand, guiding her to a job interview at a pizzeria. It wasn't glamorous, but it was work, and she needed it—badly.
A sharp tone cut through the evening calm.
"Watch it!"
Before Dawn could react, a sleek black car screeched to a halt, its tires skidding on the slick pavement. She stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest. The car's window rolled down, and an older woman with an air of wealth and authority glared out at her.
"Are you out of your mind? Do you have a death wish?" the woman snapped, her voice sharp as ice.
"I—I'm sorry," Dawn stammered, too shaken to explain.
The woman huffed, muttered something under her breath, then sped off, leaving Dawn standing on the curb, wide-eyed and trembling. Get a grip, she told herself. She couldn't afford to lose focus—not when her siblings depended on her.
Dawn's mind wandered as she made her way to the pizzeria. It had been nine years since the accident that took her parents. She'd been only fourteen when her aunt Peige took her and her three younger siblings in. Peige's house had been far from a home. They'd been treated like servants—scrubbing floors, doing laundry—until Dawn couldn't take it anymore. At seventeen, she found her first job babysitting. After that, she worked wherever she could: delivering pizza, cleaning offices, anything to make life easier for her siblings.
By twenty, she'd finally saved enough to move them out. It was a cramped apartment, barely big enough for the four of them, but it was theirs. Now at twenty-three, she was still fighting to keep it all together. Rent, school fees, groceries—there was always something to pay for.
She glanced at her phone again. "This is it," she murmured as she stopped in front of the pizzeria.
Inside, the pizzeria buzzed with energy. The smell of melted cheese and tomato sauce wrapped around her like a warm hug. Dawn paused, taking in the sight of tables crowded with people enjoying a quick slice.
"You treat me like trash, and I've had enough!"
A man's angry shout broke the moment. Dawn turned just in time to see a young worker rip off his uniform, hurl it at his boss, and storm past her, brushing her shoulder as he left.
"Good riddance!" shouted the manager. A young woman behind the counter rolled her eyes.
"We can replace him. Who needs a jerk like that?" the woman muttered before stalking off.
Dawn hesitated, then stepped up to the counter, nerves bubbling in her stomach. "Hi, I'm here about the job opening?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
The woman at the counter turned to her, a small smile softening her face. "Perfect timing. We just lost someone, and we're shorthanded."
Relief washed over Dawn so suddenly she almost stumbled. "I—I can start today, if you need me to."
"Now works just fine," the woman said cheerfully. "I'm Alex Barnes, by the way."
"Dawn Collins," she replied, unable to hide her smile.
Alex pulled a freshly ironed uniform from behind the counter and handed it to her. "You can change in there," she said, pointing to a small door marked Employees Only.
Moments later, Dawn reemerged in the uniform, still smoothing the fabric over her arms. Alex gave an approving nod. "You know, you're the first person I've seen look good in that boring uniform."
Dawn laughed lightly, the compliment easing her nerves. "Thanks."
Alex handed her a pizza box and a slip of paper with an address scrawled across it. "Here's your first delivery. Good luck."
Dawn took a steadying breath. "Thank you." She tucked the box under her arm and headed back out into the cold.
Across town, Daphne—her fur coat wrapped snugly around her shoulders—settled into an ornate sofa in her sprawling home. The decorations in the room glowed softly, casting festive reflections on the marble floor. Outside the windows, fireworks boomed in the distance, hinting at New Year celebrations to come.
Her phone buzzed. She picked it up but quickly ended the call as her son, Adam, entered the room.
He was tall, with broad shoulders and an aura of quiet strength, but his expression was distant, as if he carried the weight of the world.
"What's wrong, Adam?" Daphne asked, watching him carefully.
"Nothing," Adam replied, his voice flat.
"I'm your mother. I know when something's wrong." She leaned forward, her eyes softening. "Talk to me."
Adam hesitated. Memories flooded his mind: his wife Ava's laughter, the warmth of their home. Then came the headaches, the endless hospital visits, and the diagnosis that had shattered their world—brain tumor. For three years now, Ava had been in a coma, and every day, Adam prayed for a miracle that never seemed to come.
"I'm fine, Mother," he finally said, his tone clipped. He turned and headed toward his room, leaving Daphne watching him with pity.
As she sat back, the doorbell rang. Frowning, she got up and answered it.
"Good evening, ma'am," said a cheerful voice. "Pizza delivery."
Daphne's eyes widened. "You!"
Dawn blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"You're the girl who nearly threw herself under my car earlier!" Daphne snapped.
Realization dawned on Dawn, and she stared, wide-eyed. "Oh… I'm really sorry about that, ma'am. I wasn't paying attention."
Daphne eyed her for a moment, then sighed, her tone softening. "Just… be careful next time." She handed Dawn a tip and took the pizza.
"Thank you, ma'am," Dawn said gratefully before turning to leave.
Daphne closed the door and stood in the quiet, her mind turning. For the first time in weeks, a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Maybe," she murmured to herself, "there's a solution for Adam after all."