Ella's POV
Work had become my anchor. It filled most of the emptiness I carried around me—gave me somewhere to be, something to focus on, and people who didn't look at me with pity or curiosity. I liked that no one here knew my past; they only knew the version of me that showed up every morning, coffee in hand, determined to prove herself.
That day, I had planned to walk home like I usually did, but on my way back, Alex, my neighbor- caught up with me and offered me a ride.
Small things like that had begun to make me feel happy again. I had found a friend in Alex, someone who was still grieving the loss of his wife. He was easy to talk to, kind in a quiet way, and sometimes I found myself wondering why good people so often seemed to get the short end of life.
Once we reached the apartment complex, I thanked him and made my way toward my place, humming a Christmas song that had been stuck in my head since morning.
