The early morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting soft rays across the small apartment. Zara stirred beneath the covers, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly awoke. The clock on her bedside table read 7:00 a.m. Her routine was always the same: wake up, get ready, and head to work. Another day in the life of a secretary at a small, nondescript office.

Zara's apartment was modest, a reflection of her simple, uneventful life. The walls were painted a faded shade of blue, and the furniture was secondhand. It was all she could afford with the small salary she earned as a secretary at the local accounting firm. She didn't mind. She had grown accustomed to the quiet, solitary existence she had built since her parents' tragic death when she was just nine years old.

She shivered involuntarily, the memory resurfacing like a sharp, unwelcome sting. It was always there, just beneath the surface, waiting to remind her of the gaping hole their absence had left in her life. She pushed the thought aside. It was too painful to linger on. The memories were so vivid, like flashes of a nightmare, always haunting her dreams, always waking her in tears.

A muffled sound echoed from the hallway, a knock at the door. She wiped her eyes, forcing herself to snap out of the past. With a deep breath, she stood, running her fingers through her tangled hair before heading toward the door. It was her neighbor, Mrs. Lawson, with a package for her from the post office. A small distraction, a break from the routine. Zara took it gratefully.

As she made her way through her morning routine, the stillness of the apartment and her mind settled into familiar patterns. She didn't think much about the people around her. She preferred it that way, staying in the background, avoiding too much interaction. She had learned long ago that keeping a distance from others was easier than explaining the pain that lurked beneath the surface.

Her job at the firm was dull but manageable. Filing paperwork, answering phones, and scheduling meetings. There was nothing remarkable about it, and that suited her just fine. It was a distraction, a way to fill the hours until the night came, when her restless sleep would begin again. Her dreams were always the same, a flash of headlights, the sound of screeching tires, and the haunting echo of a voice she could never quite make out. She was always too young to understand, but she had heard enough in those fleeting moments to know her parents hadn't died by accident.

Zara finished getting dressed and grabbed her purse. As she stepped out of her apartment and into the cool morning air, she reminded herself to focus on the present, to let go of the past for just one more day. She had a long commute ahead, and work was waiting for her.

She had no idea that today would be different. Today, she would meet someone who would change everything.