**Chapter 2** GABRIELLA “I don’t understand.” How did my world spiral from disheartened to downright devastating? I was grappling with tears, desperately trying to keep them from forming icicles on my cheeks once more. One day’s worth of anguish was already quite enough. The snow fell thicker now, an unrelenting cascade that blanketed everything in white. Normally, I cherished this time of year, especially with Christmas just around the corner. The prospect of a white Christmas danced in my mind, a rare delight I hadn’t experienced in years. This was supposed to be my favorite season—a time for warmth and joy. “What’s there to understand? You’ve got to leave,” Mitch snapped, his fingers tapping frantically at his phone, offering no real assistance. “But I have a lease!” I protested, though I couldn’t distinctly recall receiving my copy. Likely, he wouldn’t relinquish one now either. Doesn’t a lease shield you from such brutal upheaval? Can someone simply toss you out without proper notice? “Then sue me. I don’t own the building anymore,” he shrugged, dismissive, as if my life was a trivial annoyance. “I can’t possibly move all my things today!” I implored, attempting to appeal to whatever fragment of humanity was left in him. But I already knew it was futile—Mitch was consumed by his own greed and self-interest. “Every tenant is getting a buyout. The company will cut each of us a check for a couple grand to ease the pain.” That revelation provided a slight glimmer of hope, better than nothing at all. Yet as I scanned the sparse furnishings of my cramped studio, I realized I didn’t possess two grand’s worth of belongings. My bed was a couch—an adequate solution, for the most part. With the entire space condensed into a single room and a kitchen stove boasting just two burners, it was tiny but functional. For a while, it had felt like a sanctuary, the most affordable option I’d found, offering a fragile sense of security. Each month had been a stretch, but I had managed to scrape by—until now. I was still reeling from the shock of being fired. It wasn’t even my fault! I could still feel the stain of hot coffee soaking through my shirt, evidence of that woman’s carelessness. She had always seemed to harbor some quiet animosity towards me, and I couldn't fathom why. “When do we get the money?” I pressed, desperation creeping into my voice. A hotel stay was my only immediate solution, and with Mitch pinning me down, I felt utterly trapped. Could I really take him to court? As if I had any means to do that. Who in their right mind would want to buy this derelict building? “A check in a few weeks,” he replied, as though that timing was perfectly reasonable. “A few weeks!” My exasperation bubbled over. The thought of returning to the shelter sent shivers down my spine, yet I couldn’t afford a hotel for that long. No way in hell. “You don’t have to yell, Gabby,” he said, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, instantly regretting my words. I should’ve lashed out at him—he deserved it—but cruelty wasn’t in my nature. Mitch knew this all too well, and he wielded it against me with the precision of a seasoned manipulator. Why was the world so imbued with malice, with people eager to exploit the vulnerable? One would expect that after my childhood—growing up in the foster care system—I’d have developed a tougher skin, yet here I was, a soft target for the brutalities of life. I constantly reminded myself to be bolder, to stand my ground, but the fierce instincts eluded me. I could still hear one of my foster parents telling me I was “full of sunshine.” Now, a dark cloud loomed over me, heavy and unyielding. “Just leave your key inside the apartment. You’d best be on your way. You’ve only got a few hours to grab your stuff,” Mitch said flatly before turning away, striding towards his sleek car with temporary plates gleaming in the freshly fallen snow. I could only watch as he drove off—swindling me out of my home, no less. Stepping back into my studio, I slumped onto the couch, fatigue washing over me like a relentless tide. I reached for my phone, fingers trembling as I searched for a place to sleep. The prices glared at me, taunting, and the urge to cry bubbled back to the surface. I squeezed my eyes shut for a fleeting moment, surrendering to the wave of exhaustion. All the worrying and crying had drained my strength. I had tirelessly taken every shift available, determined to stay afloat—only to be unceremoniously cast aside. When I jerked awake, the clock revealed that hours had slipped silently by. Panic surged through me; time was ticking away. At last, I was grateful for my minimal possessions. I scurried around the petite space, stuffing every bit of my belongings into the lone suitcase I owned, hastily tearing open trash bags for the remainder. It was either that or abandon everything behind. It felt disheartening how swiftly I dispatched my life’s small trinkets, memories condensed into mere objects. I flopped back onto my couch, attempting to conjure some ember of positivity, but for the first time, I found myself grappling with an absence of hope. Caleb floated to the forefront of my mind—the one person who could usually lift me from despair. Now, uncertainty clouded my thoughts about ever seeing him again. He had always been the sunbeam breaking through my stormy clouds, that rare kindness amidst the hustle of the city. I could recall the moments I tried coaxing more words from his serene presence. He was typically so quiet but radiated compassion like no one else. But what was the likelihood of our paths crossing again? We hailed from entirely different realms. The watch on his wrist alone—likely worth five years of my meager salary—was enough to draw a definitive line between us. Yet he had consistently treated me with warmth, unlike the other high-powered businessmen who flitted through the café like drones, too busy to notice anyone outside their own self-importance. I had unwittingly nurtured a one-sided crush on Caleb, adorning his coffee cups with little heart doodles while he remained blissfully unaware, never asking for my number or pursuing anything more. Maybe it was for the best; reality would never allow such a fantasy to unfold. Resigned, I pulled my phone back into view, scrolling for a safe haven to spend the night, my heart whispering a silent prayer for a Christmas miracle. Just once, it would be a welcome twist of fate to have fortune smile down on me.