Mira's alarm didn't go off.
Not because she forgot to set it—oh no, she had triple-checked it the night before—but because, in true Mira fashion, her phone had died sometime in the middle of the night despite being plugged in.
So now she was running.
Her heart pounded as she sprinted across campus, backpack half-zipped, hair flying behind her in a tangled mess. The History of Mythological Civilizations lecture hall was on the other side of the quad, and she had exactly two minutes before Professor Davis locked the door.
Which, knowing her luck, meant she was absolutely going to be late.
The universe just had it out for her.
Mira knew she wasn't just unlucky—she was cursed.
She had never won a raffle, a giveaway, or even a simple coin toss. If she ordered food, they'd get her order wrong. If she chose the shortest checkout line, the register would break. And if she, for once, decided to skip a lecture? That would be the day the professor decided to hand out bonus marks for attendance.
Just. My. Luck.
The words played in her head constantly, a bitter joke she had long since accepted.
Mira skidded around a corner, nearly knocking over a freshman with a towering stack of books. "Sorry!" she yelled without stopping, breathless as she launched herself up the stairs two at a time.
Please let me make it. Please let me—
The classroom door swung shut.
A collective groan came from the unlucky few who hadn't made it in time. Mira smacked into the door with a quiet thud, her forehead resting against the cool wood as she caught her breath.
From inside, Professor Davis's voice rang out. "For those of you on time, you'll find an impromptu quiz on your desks."
Mira's stomach twisted. You have got to be kidding me.
The one day she was late, and this happened?
A girl next to her sighed. "Guess we're out of luck."
Mira let out a dry laugh. "Story of my life."
---
"A Miracle Child"
By the time class was over and the doors finally reopened, Mira had already decided that today was officially a terrible day.
She dragged herself across campus, weaving between students chatting about weekend plans.
The library was her next stop—not because she wanted to study, but because she needed a quiet place to rethink her entire life.
As she stepped inside, the familiar scent of old books and coffee greeted her. Mira found a secluded corner, dropped into a chair, and let out a long breath.
She ran a hand through her dark brown hair, pulling it over one shoulder as she stared at the table. Her reflection in the polished wood stared back—tired brown eyes, slightly pale skin, and a faint frown she hadn't even realized was there.
She wasn't ugly, but she wasn't particularly striking either. Just… average. Unlucky and average.
If there was one thing that set her apart, it was the scar on her left wrist—a thin, barely visible line that had been there since she was seven.
Mira didn't remember much about the accident.
She remembered her parents taking her on a road trip, laughing as they sang along to old songs. She remembered the way her mother's perfume smelled, the warmth of her father's hand ruffling her hair.
And then she remembered waking up to flashing red lights, the distant wail of sirens, and strangers pulling her out of a wreck that should have killed her.
"A miracle," the rescuers had called it.
She had been the only survivor.
Some people thought that meant she was blessed. That she had divine protection or some great destiny ahead of her.
Mira knew better.
She had used up all her luck that day.
Ever since, life had been one long string of bad luck and disappointments.
She sighed, rubbing her temples. Maybe I should just drop out and become a fortune teller. "Mira the Unlucky—guaranteed to predict the worst possible outcomes."
The thought almost made her laugh.
Almost.
---
A Strange Email
Mira finally forced herself to pull out her laptop.
She had an essay due next week, and unlike the lucky students who could procrastinate and somehow still pull off good grades, she had to start early or risk disaster.
She opened her inbox, fully expecting to find a pile of spam and overdue reminders.
Instead, she found something strange.
[Subject: Congratulations, Mira! You've been selected!]
Her eyebrows furrowed.
What?
She clicked on the email, scanning the contents.
> Dear Mira,
Congratulations! You have been chosen as the winner of our exclusive giveaway! You will receive a state-of-the-art VR gaming pod, completely free of charge! No fees, no hidden costs. Simply reply to this email with your shipping details, and your pod will arrive within 48 hours!
Welcome to Gods Game.
Mira stared.
Then she laughed.
A hollow, disbelieving laugh that echoed in the empty library corner.
There's no way.
She had never won anything in her life. And now, out of nowhere, she was getting a free VR pod?
Yeah. Right.
She was about to delete the email—because obviously, this was a scam—when something stopped her.
At the very bottom of the email, in tiny, almost unreadable text, was a single line:
"Even the unluckiest can be chosen for a miracle."
Mira froze.
Her fingers hovered over the mousepad, a strange chill creeping down her spine.
Her gaze flickered to her scarred wrist.
A miracle.
Her heart pounded as she reread the words.
And for the first time in years, she felt something strange stir inside her.
Hope.
--