The long awaited day arrived. I was perplexed and teased.
When I told Ben and Mary about the meeting, they thought I was bluffing, tagging it to that random caller from the WhatsApp group and laughing it off.
I arrived at Franklin Park fifteen minutes early.
I was eager, anxious, and curious.
Like the old adaga; Curiosity kills the cat.
Maybe it does, because fear can be louder than logic and mine had been screaming all day.
I sat in one of the coolest areas, beside the street fountain that flickered like a warning sign. The tranquility of Franklin Park brought strange solace to my soul.
I admired the work of Mother Nature the greenish trees of different types, the flowing stream that calmed the fire in my heart, the artistic views that expressed the history of mankind and Livewell City.
I think I should be coming here more often. It provides comfort to my resilient spirit.
Maybe I'll bring Mary and Ben someday we could write our projects here.
POV: I was carried away by the immaculate creation of the park and forgot that time had passed.
I kept checking my phone like a maniac. Maybe I was the joke. Maybe the rich get bored and toss crumbs like this to people like me.
My hands were sweating, my phone was already on battery low.
Of all days, I forgot to charge it. I prayed it wouldn't die before he arrived.
At a point, I started doubting myself. You really came, I whispered.
God, Luna, what are you even doing here?
Every second felt like a scream.
The air was crisp,the silence is sharp.
Franklin Park was quieter at night.
Too quiet for someone raised in chaos.
POV: Maybe Ben was right. Maybe dreams like this aren't built for people like me. Maybe I've walked into something bigger than my body can carry.
And then he arrived.
He stepped out of the grey SUV, Calm, no bodyguard, no security.
His long sleeves were rolled just enough to show power without trying too hard.
POV: Suddenly, I don't feel ready anymore.
He spotted me immediately. No confusion, no hesitation.
Luna Evans, The little woman with the handwritten number, he said, walking closer.
You kept your end of the dare.
I tried to stand but my legs betrayed me.
I smiled instead of the nervous kind.
Didn't know it was a dare, I managed to say.
We stood there in strange silence.
The night swallowed our words.
His eyes didn't blink much sharp, brown, tired, expensive.
I don't usually get notes in my pocket, he said, smirking slightly.
That was bold.
I'm not usually bold.
Then you're changing. And I like that.
I didn't know what to say.
He was so composed. Every move felt rehearsed, but not fake like he had mastered the art of being interesting without trying.
You study at Livewell Uni, right? he asked.
I nodded.
Creative Writing?
Another nod.
So you write stories?" he asked, tilting his head.
I wonder what kind of story you're trying to write now.
It sent a cold chill over my body I wonder what kind of story you're trying to write now I keep on rephrasing this word in my mind.
I hesitated.
POV: A fairytale, maybe. But the kind that ends in fire.
Before I could reply, he stepped even closer.
Let's not pretend this is normal, he said.
You caught my attention. That's rare. I want to see where it goes.
And if it goes nowhere?
He smiled, then at least you'll have a story to tell.
He checked his watch. Then looked back at me.
And with that he left.
No goodbye, No number exchange.
Just silence. I stood frozen.
The cool wind whispered through my hair like a warning.
POV: This is it, isn't it? The part where I either rise or get ruined.
I stood there, unsure of whether to cry, laugh, or chase after the car that just swallowed my peace.
What just happened?
POV: I rehearsed a thousand responses. None of them mattered. The silence between us spoke louder than any of my words.
Mary would call me crazy. Ben would call me foolish. But I felt awakened.
There was a taste of danger on my lips like I had bitten into something sweet with a poisoned center.
And I wanted more.
That night, I didn't go home straight. I wandered.
The city looked different as if my footsteps had shifted something in its bones.
POV: Maybe I wasn't supposed to belong to this world
But what if I created my own space inside it?
By the time I got home, the moon had moved far across the sky, and my mind wouldn't shut off.
My dreams that night weren't dreams at all, they were visions.
Half hopes, half warnings.
A table with no seat for me.
A man in a suit smiling like thunder.
A crowd cheering for something I didn't understand.
Was this the beginning or the trap?
But I already knew the answer.
Whatever this was
I was already in too deep.