The city taught me how to disappear.
If you walked fast enough, kept your eyes down, and didn't expect kindness, it rewarded you with invisibility. I had learned that lesson early—how to blend into crowds, how to exist without being noticed, how to survive without hoping.
So when I tripped outside the subway station and my coffee spilled across the pavement, I didn't look up right away.
I already knew how this would go.
People would step around me. Someone might sigh in annoyance. The city would keep moving, just like it always did.
"Hey."
The voice was close.
Too close.
My body reacted before my mind could—muscles stiffening, breath catching painfully in my throat. I hated that reflex. Hated that even now, my past still lived inside my bones.
"Are you hurt?"
I lifted my head.
And that was my first mistake.
He wasn't extraordinary. No sharp angles, no intimidating presence. Just a man kneeling in front of me with concern written plainly across his face. Warm eyes. Gentle hands. The kind of softness that felt dangerous because it didn't ask for anything in return.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, already pushing myself to my feet. "Just clumsy."
He stood as well, stepping back instead of crowding me. That small gesture made my chest tighten more than it should have.
"Mornings can be cruel," he said lightly.
"It's afternoon."
He blinked, then laughed—a real laugh, surprised and unguarded. "That explains why my day's been a disaster."
I didn't mean to smile.
But I did.
Something shifted inside my chest, subtle and unwelcome, like a crack in a wall I'd spent years building.
"I'm Theo," he said, holding out his hand.
I stared at it.
Touching people had consequences. Names had weight. Moments like this had a way of turning into memories I couldn't erase.
I told myself to walk away.
Instead, I reached out.
"Mira."
Our hands met briefly—warm, steady—but my pulse jumped as if I'd done something reckless. Something irreversible.
Theo smiled, not out of politeness, but like he was really seeing me.
"Well, Mira," he said, "I'm glad you're okay."
So was I.
At least, I thought I was.
At least, I thought I was.
I didn't know then that this moment—the spilled coffee, the shared laugh, the hand I shouldn't have taken—would become the beginning of everything I swore I would never let myself feel again.
And I definitely didn't know that he would become the man I was never supposed to love.