Noel stood outside a sleek glass building downtown, her hoodie pulled tight against the wind. The leasing agent smiled too wide, gesturing toward the lobby with polished hands.
"This unit has quartz countertops, smart lighting, and a rooftop pool. You'll love it."
Noel stepped inside, boots squeaking against the marble floor. The air smelled like lemon and money. The walls were white, the furniture minimalist, the silence sterile.
She followed the agent up three flights, past a gym with chrome machines and a lounge with velvet chairs. The apartment was bright—floor-to-ceiling windows, stainless steel appliances, a rainfall shower.
"Rent starts at $2,500," the agent said cheerfully.
Noel blinked. "A month?"
"Yes. Utilities not included."
She stared at the space. It was beautiful. Cold. Empty.
"I just lost my job," she muttered. "I don't even have a car anymore."
The agent tilted her head. "We do offer a move-in special—first month half off."
Noel nodded slowly, then turned to leave.
The next place was smaller, tucked between a coffee shop and a yoga studio. The walls were painted sage green, the kitchen compact but modern. A young man in a blazer showed her around.
"This one's $1,750," he said. "It's our most affordable unit."
Noel ran her fingers along the counter. It was smooth, cool. The bedroom was barely big enough for a full-size bed. The closet was a joke.
She looked out the window. Across the street, a man pushed a shopping cart full of blankets. A woman sat on the curb, braiding her daughter's hair.
"This used to be a community," Noel said quietly.
The man smiled. "It still is. Just... evolving."
She didn't respond.
He handed her a brochure. "Let me know if you're interested."
She folded it in half and shoved it into her pocket.
Noel sat on a bench outside the leasing office, head in her hands. Her breath fogged in the air. Her boots were worn. Her bank account still empty.
"$1,750. $2,500. For what?" she whispered. "A box with white walls and fake plants?"
She thought about her parents' house—pink tiles, creaky floors, the mural in the hallway. It wasn't perfect. But it was hers. It had soul.
These apartments felt like showrooms. Places to sleep, not to live.
She pulled out her phone, checked listings again. Studio: $1,600. One-bedroom: $2,200. Shared basement unit: $1,400 with no windows.
She closed the app.
Her chest ached.
She didn't want luxury. She wanted safety. She wanted dignity. She wanted a place where she could cry without being watched, where she could heal without being priced out.
But the city didn't care.
Evening , 3:30pm
Noel had spent the entire day walking through apartment complexes—each one more polished, more sterile, more expensive than the last. Her feet ached. Her spirit sagged. The numbers blurred together: $1,200 for a studio with no windows. $2,400 for a one-bedroom with "smart" everything. $3,100 for a unit with a wine fridge and a view of a parking garage.
She stood in the lobby of the last complex on her list, a towering building with gold accents and a concierge desk that looked like it belonged in a hotel. The air smelled like eucalyptus and ambition.
The leasing agent, a young woman in a navy blazer and heels too high for comfort, smiled brightly. "Ready for the tour?"
Noel nodded, clutching the folder of brochures she'd collected throughout the day. Her hoodie felt out of place here. Her exhaustion even more so.
They walked past a wall of mirrors, down a hallway lined with abstract art, toward the elevator.
As they turned the corner, Noel bumped into someone—hard enough to make her stumble.
"Oh—" she started, looking up.
And froze.
The man she'd collided with stood tall, about 5'9", his frame muscular and poised like he'd been carved from stone. His skin was a rich, dark chestnut, smooth and radiant under the lobby lights. His eyes—grey like storm clouds—met hers with quiet intensity. His fade haircut was white like snow, contrasting beautifully against his complexion.
His face was regal, sharp cheekbones and a jawline that looked sculpted by centuries. There was something ancient in his features—something that whispered of Egyptian royalty and with a dash of Nigerian strength. He wore a black turtleneck and tailored slacks, his presence commanding without effort.
Noel's breath caught.
"He's breathtaking," she thought. "Beautiful. Unique. Just... different."
She couldn't look away.
Before she could apologize, the man raised his hand gently.
"Don't worry about it," he said, voice smooth and low. "It's fine."
He gave her a small nod, then walked past, disappearing into the elevator without another word.
Noel stood frozen, heart thudding, gaze lingering on the closed elevator doors.
The leasing agent cleared her throat. "Shall we continue?"
Noel blinked, nodding slowly.
But her thoughts were elsewhere.
She didn't know his name. She didn't know his story. But something about him had shifted the air around her—like a thread had been tugged in her chest, pulling her toward something she couldn't name yet.
As she followed the agent into the apartment, she barely noticed the quartz counters or the rainfall shower.
All she could think about was the man with storm-colored eyes and snow-white hair.
The apartment tour had ended. Noel stood in the hallway, clutching the folder of brochures she'd collected throughout the day. Her feet ached. Her spirit sagged. The numbers—$1,200, $2,500, $3,100—blurred together like static. She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath, when she heard footsteps approaching.
She looked up.
It was him.
The man from the lobby.
He stopped a few feet away, tilting his head slightly.
"Now you look familiar to me," he said, voice smooth. "Are you still looking for a job?"
Noel blinked. "Huh? We met before?"
He nodded. "I saw you from the window. Passenger seat of my partner's SUV. He was the one notifying you about your property being demolished in three days."
Noel's breath caught. Her chest tightened. "That was you?"
He nodded again, calm. "I remember your face. You looked... devastated."
She swallowed hard, eyes burning. "Is there anything I can do to keep that house?"
He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. "The city is evolving. The world is evolving. And human beings—especially those of us who've been left behind—have to learn to adjust."
She frowned. "Adjust to what? Losing everything?"
"Adjust to change," he said. "To new systems. New economies. That house is surrounded by decay. Vacant lots. Drug houses. It's not safe. It's not sustainable."
"But it's mine," she whispered.
He nodded. "I know. But sometimes holding on to the past keeps us from stepping into the future."
Noel sighed, shoulders slumping. "I'm still looking for a job."
He studied her for a moment, then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek black business card.
"You can work for me," he said. "As an assistant at my company. We design and distribute mini robots for retirement homes, hospitals, QuickTrip gas stations, and hotels across America."
She stared at the card. "Robots?"
He nodded. "I'll start you off at $20.00 an hour. Full-time. Benefits after ninety days."
Noel took the card slowly, fingers trembling. "How do these AI robots benefit the human race?"
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "People's attention spans are declining. Some can't pass a simple drug test or physical. Others complain about pay, hours, tasks. Companies are tired of the high turnover. Tired of excuses."
She listened, heart thudding.
"So now," he continued, "they're investing into AI. Robots programmed to do specific tasks—stock shelves, deliver meds, clean rooms, greet customers. No sick days. No attitude. No payroll taxes."
Noel's eyes narrowed. "So you replace people."
"We replace inefficiency," he said. "We businessmen save money. We streamline operations. And we don't have to pay robots—at least not yet."
She looked down at the card. It felt heavy in her hand.
"I don't know how I feel about that," she said.
He smiled faintly. "You don't have to feel anything yet. Just show up Monday morning in professional attire.
Let the future introduce itself."
Noel stood there, the hallway quiet around them. The air felt charged—like something was changing. She didn't know this man. Didn't know his world. But something about him felt like a door opening.
She looked up at him again.
"Alright. I'll give it a try.," she said.
He nodded once. "That's all I ask."
Then he turned and walked away, footsteps echoing down the hall.
Noel stood still, business card in hand, heart pounding.
She didn't know what came next.
But for the first time in days, she felt like maybe—just maybe—there was a next.
It was 11:00 AM friday morning.
When Noel stepped out of the rideshare and onto the polished sidewalk in front of the apartment complex. The sky was pale blue, the air crisp with early October chill. She carried two small boxes—one with her documents, the other with four pairs of clothes folded neatly. That was all she owned now. Her social security card, high school diploma, welding certification, birth certificate. Noel had never been much of a shopper. She lived light.
The leasing office had been surprisingly kind. They offered No down payment. Two months of rent covered to Her and new customers that had a credit score of 650 or over. This had unlocked the door to a place she never thought she'd afford.
She stepped into her new unit, the door clicking shut behind her. The space was quiet, clean, and modern. She sat her boxes down near the entrance and walked slowly through the apartment, taking it all in.
The bathroom was painted a soft light orange, warm and inviting. The bathtub, toilet, and sink were all matte black—sleek and bold against the LED ceiling light that hummed gently above. Noel ran her fingers along the sink's edge, feeling the cool ceramic.
Her bedroom was spacious—big enough for a king-size bed and a 30-inch desk. The closet was walk-in, with mirrored doors and soft lighting.
She opened it, stepped inside, and laughed softly to herself.
"Looks like I'll only be using one side of this closet."
Noel turned, startled. She hadn't expected anyone.
Floating just outside her door was a small robot—sleek, silver, and hovering at eye level. It held a pink file folder in its mechanical hands, its digital eyes blinking softly.
Noel opened the door.
"Greetings, Noel," the robot chirped. "I am Ava02, your personal assistant. I brought you a few brochures of some restaurants, our complex gym, movie theater, and shopping centers nearby."
Noel stepped aside, letting Ava float in. She perched herself on the kitchen counter, watching the robot with cautious curiosity.
"For restaurants," Ava continued, "we have soul food, three pizza shops, five Chinese restaurants, one Thai restaurant, Golden Corral, and a Korean restaurant. Majority are carry-out only, but they do offer limited seating for groups of five or more."
Noel raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of options."
"Our gym is free for residents," Ava added. "We have both indoor and outdoor pools, each 60 feet long. There's also a scan-and-go market downstairs for quick snacks and hot food from our kitchen."
Noel reached out and took the folder, cutting Ava off gently.
"I'll read the rest, thank you, Ava."
Ava spun once in excitement, then floated toward the door.
"If you need anything," she said, turning back, "download the Ava app on your phone and press 'Call.' I will assist you with anything. Have a great morning."
Noel nodded. "You too."
Ava exited to the stairway, her soft hum fading down the hall.
Noel walked to the kitchen island and opened the folder. Inside were neatly organized brochures—maps, menus, gym schedules, movie listings. She spread them out across the counter, scanning each one slowly.
She didn't feel settled yet. Not fully. But the apartment was quiet. Safe. Warm.
She ran her fingers over the edge of the soul food menu, eyes lingering on the photo of collard greens and cornbread.
This was a fresh start for her.
Noel had just finished unpacking the last of her small belongings—her documents, her folded clothes, the pink folder Ava02 had delivered. The apartment was quiet, the LED lights casting a soft glow across the walls. She decided to take a walk through the building, maybe explore the gym or peek into the scan-and-go market downstairs or maybe check the restaurants out.
As she stepped into the hallway, the air felt cooler, scented faintly with eucalyptus and clean linen. Her footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor.
Then she saw him.
A man walking toward her from the opposite end of the hall. He was tall—at least 6'3"—with an athletic build that moved with effortless grace. His hair was black as midnight, styled in a messy medium pixie cut that framed his face like a halo of shadows. His skin was white ivory, smooth like butter, glowing faintly under the hallway lights.
His face was breathtaking—sharp jawline, almond-shaped eyes, full lashes, and lips that looked like they'd been sculpted with intention. His dark blue eyes locked onto hers, deep and unreadable, like the ocean at night.
He wore black joggers, a black tank top clinging to his chest, black Nike sneakers, and a Samsung Galaxy smartwatch on his left wrist. Sweat glistened on his forehead, trailing down his neck in slow, deliberate drops.
Noel froze.
She didn't respond.
She went straight to lala land.
The man noticed her silence and chuckled softly. He stopped a few feet away, tilted his head, and snapped his fingers in front of her face.
Noel blinked, startled, snapping out of her trance.
"Oh—I'm sorry," she said, cheeks flushing. "I have a habit of daydreaming. What did you say a few minutes ago?"
He smiled, amused. "It's cool. You aren't the only woman to daydream about me."
Noel laughed awkwardly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I was saying, welcome newcomer," he continued, extending his hand. "I'm Alexandria Woodland."
Noel took his hand, surprised by how warm and steady it felt.
"I'm Noel Carter," she said. "A pleasure to meet you."
His smile deepened. "Likewise."
They stood there for a moment, the hallway quiet around them, the air charged with something subtle and electric.
Alexandria glanced toward the elevator. "Would you like to get some coffee or pizza from one of the restaurants nearby? It's walking distance. I know a few good spots."
Noel's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes please. I wanted to take a tour before the sun went down."
"Perfect," he said. "I need to go change real quick. I'll meet you in the lobby in ten."
"Sounds good," she said, smiling.
He gave her a nod and turned down the hall, his joggers swaying with each step, the sweat still glistening on his neck.
Noel watched him go, heart thudding.
She hadn't expected this.
The sun was beginning to dip behind the skyline, casting long shadows across the sidewalk as Noel stepped into the lobby. Alexandria was already there, dressed in a charcoal hoodie, black jeans, and fresh sneakers. His messy pixie cut was still damp from a quick rinse, and his smartwatch blinked softly on his wrist.
He smiled when he saw her. "Right on time."
Noel nodded, her heart thudding a little harder than usual. "I didn't want to miss the sunset."
They stepped outside together, the air crisp and golden. The city buzzed around them—cars humming, leaves rustling, distant laughter from a nearby park. Alexandria walked with a quiet confidence, hands in his pockets, gaze steady.
"So," he said, "how are you settling in?"
Noel shrugged. "It's quiet. Clean. Feels like a reset."
He glanced at her. "You needed one?"
She nodded. "More than I realized."
They walked in silence for a moment, the rhythm of their steps syncing naturally.
The pizza shop was tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore, its neon sign flickering gently. Inside, the air smelled like garlic, basil, and melted cheese. The walls were lined with vintage posters and faded photos of the neighborhood before the renovations.
They slid into a booth near the window. The waitress handed them menus, smiled, and disappeared.
Alexandria leaned back, stretching slightly. "You ever feel like the city's changing too fast?"
Noel looked around. "Every day. My old block doesn't even look like itself anymore."
He nodded. "Mine either. I grew up near the river. Now it's all condos and wine bars."
She studied him. "Do you miss it?"
He paused. "I miss the people. The noise. The mess. But I also know some of that mess wasn't safe."
Noel traced the edge of her menu. "I lost my house. My job. My car. All in one week."
Alexandria's eyes softened. "That's a lot."
She nodded. "It felt like the world was folding in on me."
Their pizza arrived—thin crust, pepperoni, mushrooms, extra cheese. Noel took a bite, savoring the warmth.
Alexandria watched her for a moment, then said, "You ever think about what you'd do if you could start over completely?"
She wiped her mouth. "I used to dream about opening a bakery. Something small. Cozy. With jazz playing and handwritten menus."
He smiled. "That sounds like a place I'd go every week."
She laughed softly. "I never had the money. Or the time. Or the belief."
He leaned forward. "You've got the belief now?"
She hesitated. "I'm trying."
He nodded. "That's enough."
Noel looked at him, really looked. His eyes were deep blue, but not cold. His face was beautiful, yes—but it was the way he listened that made her feel seen.
She set her slice down. "I met someone recently. He offered me a job. Said his company builds robots for hospitals and gas stations."
Alexandria raised an eyebrow. "You thinking about it?"
"I don't know," she said. "It feels like stepping into a world I don't understand."
He tilted his head. "Sometimes those are the best worlds."
She smiled faintly. "He said people are being replaced because they complain too much. Or fail drug tests. Or don't show up."
Alexandria's jaw tightened. "That's one way to look at it."
"What's yours?"
He leaned back. "I think people are tired. Overworked. Underpaid. And scared. Robots don't get scared."
Noel nodded slowly. "But they don't dream either."
He smiled. "Exactly."
They left the pizza shop just as the sky turned lavender. The air was cooler now, the city quieter. Noel walked beside Alexandria, her hands tucked into her jacket, her heart lighter.
"Thanks for tonight," she said.
He glanced at her. "You needed it."
She nodded. "I did."
They reached the apartment complex, the lobby lights glowing warmly.
Alexandria turned to her. "If you ever want to talk again—or walk, or eat—just knock."
Noel smiled. "I might take you up on that."
He gave her a small salute, then disappeared down the hall.
Noel stood there for a moment, watching him go.
She didn't know what tomorrow held.
But tonight had reminded her that connection still existed.
Even in a city that kept changing.
Even in a life that had been torn apart.
The sky had turned a soft indigo, stars beginning to blink through the haze above the city. Noel and Alexandria walked side by side, the pizza shop behind them, the apartment complex glowing ahead like a quiet beacon.
The sidewalk was quiet now, the hum of traffic distant, the air cool against their skin. Alexandria had his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, his gaze steady on the horizon. Noel walked with her arms folded, her steps slower now, more thoughtful.
"You ever feel like you're living someone else's life?" she asked softly.
Alexandria glanced at her. "Sometimes. Like I woke up in a version of the world I didn't sign up for."
She nodded. "I used to think I'd be a welder. I got certified. I liked the heat, the sparks, the rhythm of it. But then the jobs dried up. And the bills didn't."
He smiled faintly. "I wanted to be a painter. Abstract stuff. Big canvases. But my father said art doesn't pay rent."
"Did you listen?"
"For a while," he said. "Then I stopped listening and started building things instead."
They turned the corner, the apartment complex now just a block away. The streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement.
"What do you love?" Alexandria asked.
Noel thought for a moment. "Jazz. Rain. The smell of fresh bread. Murals that tell stories. I love quiet mornings and loud laughter. I love when people cry during movies because it means they still feel."
He looked at her, eyes soft. "That's beautiful."
She shrugged. "It's just me."
"What about dreams?" he asked.
She hesitated. "I used to dream about owning a bakery. With a mural on the wall and vinyls playing all day. I wanted it to feel like home for people who didn't have one."
He nodded slowly. "That's not just a dream. That's a sanctuary."
Noel smiled, surprised by how seen she felt.
"What about you?" she asked.
Alexandria looked up at the stars. "I want to build something that lasts. Not just tech. Something that makes people feel safe. I want to create spaces where people can breathe. Where they don't have to pretend."
They reached the front steps of the apartment complex. Alexandria held the door open for her, and they stepped into the quiet lobby. The air was warm, scented faintly with vanilla and clean linen.
They didn't rush toward the elevators. They stood near the wall of mirrors, reflections soft and blurred.
"You're different," Noel said quietly.
"So are you," he replied.
She looked down at her shoes. "I've been through a lot lately. I don't know how to trust anything anymore."
He nodded. "You don't have to trust everything. Just trust what feels real."
She looked up at him. "This feels real."
He smiled. "Then hold onto it."
They rode the elevator in silence, the soft hum filling the space between them. When they reached her floor, Alexandria walked her to her door, his steps slow, deliberate.
Noel unlocked it, then turned to face him.
"Thank you," she said. "For tonight. For listening."
He nodded. "Anytime."
She hesitated. "I don't usually open up like that."
"I don't usually walk strangers home," he said with a grin.
They stood there for a moment, the hallway quiet around them.
"I hope you find your bakery," he said.
"I hope you paint again," she replied.
He reached out, gently touched her shoulder. "Goodnight, Noel."
"Goodnight, Alexandria."
He turned and walked down the hall, his silhouette fading into the soft hallway light.
Noel stepped inside her apartment, closed the door, and leaned against it. Her heart was full. Her mind quiet.
First day of work
The morning air was crisp as Noel stepped into the lobby of Halston Robotics. Her white blazer hugged her shoulders, her slip-on sneakers silent against the polished floor. Her hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, her face calm but alert. She clutched her ID badge, heart thudding.
The building was sleek—glass walls, matte black accents, and soft LED lighting. It smelled like ozone and fresh coffee.
"Noel Carter?" a voice called.
She turned.
Clay Thomas stood near the reception desk, dressed in a tailored grey suit, his expression warm. "Glad you made it."
"Thank you," she said, shaking his hand.
He led her through the building, pointing out departments—design, testing, logistics. "You'll be assisting me and occasionally shadowing Alexandria Woodland."
Noel blinked. "Alexandria works here?"
Clay chuckled. "Didn't he mention it?"
"No," she said softly.
They turned a corner—and there he was.
Alexandria stood beside a glass panel, clipboard in hand, speaking to a technician. He wore a black button-up, sleeves rolled, slacks fitted. His snow-white pixie cut was slightly tousled, and his storm-colored eyes flicked up as he spotted her.
Their gazes locked.
He smiled.
Noel felt her breath catch.
Clay continued the tour, but Noel's thoughts lingered. The robotics lab was surreal—rows of floating units, each programmed for specific tasks. One bot handed out water bottles. Another scanned inventory. A third hovered silently, blinking.
"This is where the future's being built," Clay said.
Noel nodded, unsure how to feel.
Her desk was minimalist—white surface, touchscreen monitor, a small drawer. Clay handed her a schedule and a company tablet.
"Lunch is at noon. Cafeteria's on the third floor."
She thanked him and sat down, trying to absorb everything.
At noon, Noel made her way to the cafeteria. It was spacious, with soft lighting and modular seating. The scent of grilled vegetables and fresh bread filled the air.
She grabbed a tray—rice, roasted chicken, steamed greens—and found a quiet corner.
Minutes later, Alexandria appeared.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked.
She gestured to the seat across from her. "Please."
He sat, setting down his tray. "So. First impressions?"
"It's... a lot," she admitted. "Feels like I stepped into a sci-fi movie."
He smiled. "It does that."
They ate in silence for a moment, the hum of conversation around them fading.
Then Noel spoke. "You never told me you worked here."
"I didn't want to overwhelm you," he said. "Figured you'd find out soon enough."
She nodded. "You seem comfortable here."
"I am. But it's not always easy."
Their conversation deepened.
Noel shared her bakery dream, her welding certification, her grief over losing her parents' house.
Alexandria listened, eyes steady. "You've been through hell."
She shrugged. "I'm still standing."
He leaned forward. "I used to think success meant money. Now I think it means peace."
She looked at him. "Do you have peace?"
"Some days," he said. "Other days, I chase it."
They talked about automation, about how AI was changing everything. Alexandria admitted his fears—that people were being replaced too fast, that empathy was being lost.
Noel nodded. "Robots don't cry when they lose their homes."
"No," he said. "But they don't dream about bakeries either."
Lunch ended slowly.
Alexandria stood, picked up both trays.
"I'll walk you back," he said.
They moved through the halls together, quiet but connected.
At her desk, he paused.
"You're going to be good here," he said.
She smiled. "Thanks for believing in me."
He nodded once, then turned and walked away.
Noel sat down, heart full.
Her first day had begun with nerves.
It ended with possibility.