INSIDE THE LABORATORY – 6:40 PM
White lab gowns moved with precision across the floor, blending with the mechanical arms that extended and retracted like obedient servants. The sterile, humming air smelled faintly of chemicals and ozone, the signature of a place where science bent flesh and metal to its will.
Rows of monitors displayed endless streams of data. Doctors spoke in hushed voices, some noting down figures while others adjusted settings that made the machines hum louder. A team of three circled around a sealed glass chamber, where blue light pulsed steadily—alive, yet artificial.
This was no ordinary laboratory. It was the pride of Newfangled Incorporation, a fortress of modern medicine where failure was never spoken of, and results were bought with sleepless nights and silent sacrifices.
But outside, a very different story was unfolding.
OUTSIDE THE BUILDING – 6:40 PM
The orange glow of the setting sun clung to the glass façade of the tower, painting it in warmth it didn't deserve. Above the massive entrance, the words Newfangled Incorporation glinted, proud and cold, as if mocking those who entered and left.
On the marble steps stood a young woman. She clutched a medium-sized cardboard box, the edges already soft from the weight of its contents.
Her dark brown hair framed her pale face, strands sticking faintly from the humidity, while her hazel eyes stared at the building as if trying to memorize it—one last time.
Evah.
She drew in a sharp breath. Five years… The words echoed bitterly in her head. Five years, and this is the last time I'll see this place.
Her legs trembled as she took the first step down the stairs, the box heavy in her arms. Each step carried her further away from the life she had chained herself to.
I spent so much of my life working for that job, she thought, her chest tightening. I locked myself away… in this cage.
The city around her didn't wait. The shadows of evening spread quickly, neon signs flickering to life as car horns blended into the endless hum of the metropolis. To most, this was just another Thursday evening. But for Evah, the world slowed.
Every step felt like it carried the weight of her regrets.
I thought… I thought my hard work would pay off. That there was meaning to all of this.
A cold droplet splashed onto the cardboard, pulling her from her thoughts. Then another. Within moments, the rain fell harder, the box soaking at the edges.
"Just when I thought it couldn't get worse," she muttered, fumbling her umbrella open with one hand. The transparent dome barely shielded her from the downpour.
Her orange dress stuck to her legs, the fabric darkening in patches, while her cream-colored boots gave a soft squelch with each step.
That was when it happened.
Someone brushed past her shoulder, fast, careless. His blue jacket collided with her arm.
The box slipped.
Time seemed to slow as the contents spilled across the wet sidewalk. Notebooks slid into shallow puddles, tumblers rolled away, and photographs—fragile pieces of her past—fluttered onto the concrete only to be trampled by strangers' shoes.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Evah snapped, her voice cutting through the rain.
But the man never turned. He disappeared into the crowd, faceless and unapologetic.
Her umbrella tilted awkwardly as she scrambled to gather her things. The cardboard sagged, half-soaked, and the photos stuck to the pavement when she tried to pick them up. Her fingers shook.
When she looked down, her chest tightened painfully.
Some of the photographs—faces, smiles, frozen memories—had already been stepped on. Shoes left smudges where joy once lived.
Nobody cared.
Her lips trembled. Just like my work. Nobody cared.
She had given her youth to this company. Countless sleepless nights, weekends swallowed whole, health ignored, friends forgotten. She had told herself it was worth it. That one day, someone would recognize her efforts. That all of it would mean something.
Now all she held was a sagging box of ruined memories.
Her knees hit the ground as she picked up the last of the photos. The rain blurred her vision, though she wasn't sure if it was from the sky or her own eyes. With the dim glow of a streetlight overhead, she paused, staring at the photographs in her hands.
She froze when her gaze fell on a single photograph—a family picture. Her brother, younger but beaming, stood at the center, his graduation cap tilted proudly.
Her chest hollowed.
"You promised you'd be here!" His voice replayed in her mind, sharp with hurt.
She had been at her desk that day, surrounded by documents and flashing monitors.
"I will. Just wait for me, okay?" she'd whispered into the phone, her voice weary.
"But it's almost time!" he'd cried.
The sounds of celebration bled faintly through the line—cheers, music, laughter. But louder than all of it had been his sobs, raw and lonely.
In the background, her mother's voice had cut in. "Stop bothering your sister."
Evah had clenched her fists. "I'll be there," she had promised, but even then, the words had rung hollow.
By the time she finally returned home, the night was thick and quiet. Her brother was asleep on the couch, the diploma clutched tightly to his chest, his face damp with dried tears.
She had stood in the moonlight, guilt gnawing at her chest.
I broke my promise. I'm sorry.
She blinked back the tears, back in the present, the photograph shook in her hand. She slipped it carefully back into the box, as if any more carelessness would erase the memory completely.
But the ache didn't fade.
Her brother had grown without her. She had worked, worked, worked, telling herself she was doing it for them. But in reality… she hadn't been there at all.
Her boots splashed as she forced herself to keep walking, the rain heavier now, her umbrella barely holding the weight of it. Yet no storm outside could compare to the one swelling in her chest.