Chapter 27: Lost in the Noise

The city was alive in a way Braemar never had been. It pulsed with energy, with the hum of car engines and the murmur of conversations spilling out of cafés and bars. Eleanor stood on the edge of the sidewalk, gripping the strap of her bag, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer volume of everything.

She had only been here for a few days, but already, she felt like a ghost drifting through the streets. People moved around her, busy with their own lives, their own problems. No one knew her name. No one cared where she came from. It was liberating. It was terrifying.

She had imagined this moment a hundred times—what it would feel like to finally leave. To step into the unknown, to become someone new. But standing here now, with the neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement and the air thick with the smell of rain and city life, she felt small.

Where did she belong?

The apartment she had found was nothing special—just a single-room space with a tiny kitchenette and a window that overlooked an alleyway. But it was hers. Or at least, it would be for as long as she could afford it.

She had a plan, or at least the outline of one. Work. Save money. Figure out the rest later.

Except, figuring things out wasn't as easy as she had hoped.

The coffee shop was noisy, filled with the sharp hiss of the espresso machine and the rhythmic tapping of fingers on laptop keyboards. Eleanor stood behind the counter, her uniform slightly too big, her hands gripping the edge of the register as she tried to keep up with the rush.

"Medium cappuccino, extra foam," a customer snapped, barely looking up from his phone.

"Right. Got it," Eleanor muttered, fumbling with the buttons.

The line was long. The orders kept coming. The woman training her, a sharp-eyed blonde named Riley, sighed as Eleanor hesitated over the cash register.

"You have to be faster," Riley said, reaching over to correct the order. "People don't like waiting."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

Eleanor swallowed her frustration. She had never worked a day in her life before this. Back in Braemar, everything had been familiar—school, the town, the people. Here, she was just another girl struggling to make rent.

By the end of her shift, her feet ached, and her head throbbed from the endless beeping of the coffee machines. She stepped outside into the cool night air, letting the city lights blur in her vision.

She had thought leaving Braemar would be the hard part.

She was wrong.

Days turned into weeks, and Eleanor slowly fell into a rhythm. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Repeat.

She told herself this was what she wanted. That this was freedom. But some nights, when she lay awake staring at the cracks in the ceiling, she wondered if she had made a mistake.

She hadn't spoken to Callum since she left. She hadn't called her mother. She told herself she was too busy, that she needed to settle in first. But deep down, she knew the truth.

She was afraid.

Afraid that if she called, she would hear disappointment in her mother's voice. Afraid that Callum would ask her if she was happy—and she wouldn't know how to answer.

One evening, as she walked home from work, she passed a street musician playing the violin. The melody was soft, wistful, carrying through the air like a whisper. Something in it made her chest tighten.

She stopped, pulling a few coins from her pocket and dropping them into the open violin case.

The musician, an old man with silver hair and kind eyes, nodded in thanks. "Music finds people when they need it most," he said.

Eleanor hesitated. "What if they don't know what they need?"

The old man smiled, continuing to play. "Then they just have to listen."

She stood there for a long time, the music weaving through the night air. For the first time since she arrived, the city didn't feel so loud.