The morning was already off to a rocky start. A restless night filled with vague, shadowy dreams had left Alina tangled in her sheets, causing her to sleep through the first three cycles of her alarm. She woke with a jolt, not to the shrill buzzing, but to the unnerving silence that signaled she was late. The clock blinked a useless, mocking 7:15 a.m. on the nightstand. A wave of panic washed over her.
She rushed through her routine in a frantic blur, barely brushing her hair into a haphazard ponytail before throwing on her usual uniform of gray slacks and a white blouse. The wooden box sat untouched on the shelf, a silent observer of her chaos. Inside, the velvet pouch held the ring her mother had left her. She glanced at it briefly, a flicker of the previous night's strange longing crossing her mind, but she pushed it away. There was no time for sentimentality or magical thinking today; reality was barreling down on her.
As she grabbed her bag and keys, stuffing a piece of dry toast into her mouth, a knock startled her. It was sharp and insistent, three loud raps on the thin wood of her door, the kind of knock that demanded attention. Alina sighed, a plume of toast crumbs dusting her chin. The day was determined to be difficult. She already knew who it was.
She opened the door to find Sarah standing there, her round face flushed with a mixture of morning exertion and unbridled excitement. Sarah was her next-door neighbor—a woman whose personal radar for neighborhood happenings was more sophisticated than any surveillance system. She was chubby, perpetually cheerful, and utterly relentless when it came to gossip.
"Morning, Alina!" Sarah chirped, her eyes sparkling with a familiar, all-knowing curiosity. She was already scanning the hallway behind Alina, as if expecting to find a clue. "Busy day?"
Alina forced a tight-lipped smile, trying to block the entrance with her body. "Always."
Sarah leaned against the doorframe, a casual posture that was anything but. Her arms crossed over her chest. "So, who was he? The gorgeous man dressed in emerald that came to your apartment yesterday?"
Alina blinked, her mind, already scattered by her frantic morning, struggling to catch up. "What?"
"You know," Sarah pressed on, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tall, dark hair, and handsome doesn't even begin to cover it. He knocked on your door around noon. I was heading out to the market and saw him standing right here. He looked like he stepped out of a fairy tale, I swear. I figured he must be here for you."
Alina's brow furrowed in genuine confusion, shaking her head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sarah. I wasn't here."
Sarah's grin widened, misinterpreting Alina's denial as modesty. "Oh, come on. Don't play coy with me. He was stunning! And that outfit—it wasn't a costume. It was this deep, emerald green fabric, like royalty or something out of a history book. You're telling me you don't know him?"
"I was at work all day," Alina said flatly, her patience, already frayed, wearing thin. "I left at eight and came back after five. You know that. Maybe he had the wrong apartment."
Sarah tilted her head, studying Alina with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. "Hmm. I don't think so. The way he was standing here, so still and focused... he looked like he knew exactly where he was going. He had this air about him, you know? Confident. Intense, even." She paused, her eyes gleaming. "If you say so. But if he comes back, you better tell me everything."
Alina shrugged, her mind already calculating the minutes she was losing. "I really need to get to work, Sarah."
Sarah finally stepped back, though her curiosity was still practically buzzing in the air between them. "Alright, alright. Don't let me keep you. Have a good day!"
Alina closed the door with a deep sigh of relief, leaning her forehead against the cool wood for a second. Sarah's imagination was always running wild, but this time, her words left a strange unease in Alina's chest. A man dressed in emerald? It sounded absurd. And yet, the vividness of Sarah's description sent an odd shiver down her spine. Shaking her head to clear the thought, she turned back to the room. Her eyes fell on the wooden box. On impulse, a decision made in the space of a heartbeat, she grabbed the velvet pouch and slipped it into an inner pocket of her bag. "At least Mum gave me a present," she muttered under her breath, the words a flimsy shield against the strange, unsettling feeling Sarah's story had created.
The streets were a chaotic symphony of sound and motion, the city buzzing with its usual relentless energy. Alina kept her head down, a ghost weaving through the throngs of people on her way to the office. Her thoughts were scattered, bouncing between Sarah's strange inquiry, the lingering image of an emerald-clad man, and the solid weight of the ring tucked safely in her bag.
She was halfway to work, crossing a bustling intersection, when it happened.
A sharp, violent tug on her shoulder startled her. Before she could even process the jolt, her bag was ripped from her grasp. She spun around to see a man in a gray hoodie sprinting down the street, her worn leather bag clutched tightly in his hands.
"Hey!" she shouted, the sound raw and desperate. For a split second, she was frozen in shock. Then, adrenaline surged through her veins like electricity. She took off after him, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. She dodged pedestrians, earning angry shouts, and darted between cars, a horn blaring in her ears. The thief was fast, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease, but Alina was fueled by something stronger than anger—a primal, gut-wrenching fear. The ring was in that bag. The one thing her mother had left her. The one solid piece of her past.
She couldn't lose it. She wouldn't.
The chase led them out of the main thoroughfare and into a narrow, grimy alleyway littered with overflowing bins. The thief glanced over his shoulder, a cruel smirk on his face. He thought he had the upper hand, that she'd give up. But Alina wasn't the same person who had woken up that morning. She wasn't the invisible girl from the office. She was a daughter protecting her mother's legacy. She lunged forward, her fingers just managing to snag the strap of the bag, and yanked it with all her strength.
The thief stumbled, caught off guard by her ferocity, and lost his grip. The bag hit the dirty ground with a thud, its contents spilling out onto the pavement—her wallet, keys, a lipstick, a handful of pens. Alina scrambled to gather her things, her hands shaking as her eyes frantically searched for the velvet pouch.
It was there, lying in the dirt near a puddle of murky water. The emerald ring was still safely inside. A wave of relief so profound it made her dizzy washed over her, but it was quickly replaced by a hot flash of anger. She turned to confront the thief, a sharp retort on her lips, but he was already gone, having vanished back into the urban labyrinth.
Alina clutched the pouch tightly, her heart still racing, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had almost lost it. The gift her mother had given her on her deathbed. The one thing that connected her to a life where she hadn't been so alone. The thought was a physical blow, almost unbearable.
She stuffed the pouch and her scattered belongings back into her bag, her hands trembling as she continued her walk to the office. The day had barely begun, and already it felt like the world was conspiring against her, testing her in ways she couldn't comprehend.
By the time she reached her desk, the adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. Her coworkers barely noticed her arrival, their conversations about deadlines and weekend plans carrying on as if she didn't exist. She sank into her chair, the familiar feeling of being a ghost in her own life returning, her mind still reeling from the morning's events.
The ring was safe, but the fear lingered, a cold residue in her veins. What if she had lost it? What if it had been stolen, gone forever? The thought made her stomach churn.
She glanced at her bag, resting by her feet. Inside, the pouch was a hidden, heavy secret. Her mother's words echoed in her mind, clearer now than they had been in years: "Promise you'll wear this when the time is right. It will guide you."
But was the time right? She didn't know. This morning, she had been so sure that it was all a fantasy. But after a stranger in emerald green appeared at her door and another tried to steal the one thing that mattered, the world felt less certain. All she knew was that the ring was more than just a piece of jewelry. It was a connection to something bigger. Something she didn't fully understand.
And for the first time, she truly felt the weight of that promise. It wasn't just a memory anymore. It was a responsibility.