CHAPTER ONE

I heard the sounds of crashing before I even entered the room. A normal person might have been alarmed, but I was used to it. Loud voices echoed around me.

"I saw her number on your phone, William!" 

"She's my secretary, Mary. Of course, I have her number!"

"There was nothing professional about your chats!"

"You're overreacting, Mary."

"Oh, really?" my mom yelled, throwing another glass at my father.

"Yes, you are! You're so emotional!"

I walked as quietly as I could into the room, not that it mattered—they didn't even notice. They were too caught up in their argument, as always. I wasn't sad about it anymore. Their obliviousness to my problems had become normal. They didn't notice how their once bright, bubbly girl had turned reclusive. I didn't expect them to acknowledge me. Not anymore.

The slamming of the front door and my parents' bedroom door at the same time signaled another familiar scene—one of escape for me. Feeling a familiar pang of frustration, I decided it was time to leave. I changed into my uniform and headed to the nearby diner where I worked as a waitress. The diner's busy atmosphere was a welcome distraction, drowning out the chaos of home beneath the clinking of dishes and the murmur of conversations.

As I balanced a tray of coffee cups in the crowded diner, I slipped, sending one flying. It landed right in his lap as he sat at the counter, engrossed in a book.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, rushing over with napkins, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He looked up, drenched in coffee, but instead of frowning, he chuckled softly. "Well, that's one way to catch my attention."

I managed a shy smile, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks. "I really do apologize. Let me get you another cup."

"How about you join me for it?" he suggested, his smile warm and inviting.

My heart skipped a beat. Still, I tried to stay polite. "I'm on the clock," I said, stepping back, though his eyes lingered on me. "But enjoy your coffee, on the house."

As I walked away, I couldn't help but glance back. His smile lingered in my mind longer than I expected. It was unusual for someone to make me feel this way—especially someone I barely knew.

After my shift, the diner's familiar buzz seemed to fade as I walked home. The night was unusually quiet, and the peacefulness amplified the swirl of thoughts and emotions I felt. My routine had been shaken by the memory of his dark hair and green eyes. He'd handled the coffee spill with such grace and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me. It was a new experience for me.

At home, I flopped onto my bed, trying to escape the whirlwind of feelings. I knew I shouldn't let a fleeting encounter with a stranger shake my usual indifference towards male attention, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. My life, which often felt mundane, seemed suddenly vibrant, colored by those brief moments with him.

As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, I replayed every moment from the diner. His easy smile, the way he laughed off the coffee spill, and his invitation to join him were all etched in my mind.

It was strange how someone I'd just met could leave such an impression. His casual confidence and kind demeanor were a refreshing contrast to the turmoil I faced at home. In the stillness of my room, I allowed myself to daydream about him—wondering if our paths would cross again, and if so, what might happen next.

With these thoughts swirling in my head, I found myself drifting off to sleep with a small, hopeful smile. The possibility of seeing him again made the future feel a little brighter, as if for once, something good awaited me.