(Elara POV)
It's almost funny how life waits until you let your guard down.
I had told myself that this weekend would be different. That I would sleep in, let my body recover from the last few weeks, maybe even allow myself to feel human again. No alarms. No numbers. No pretending I wasn't exhausted down to my bones.
I had just changed into my old, soft T-shirt — the one with the frayed hem — when the sound hit.
At first, I thought it was thunder.
Then the walls shook.
A deep, violent crash echoed through the building, loud enough to rattle the windows, loud enough to knock the breath right out of my chest. Something heavy groaned, metal screaming against concrete, followed by shouting.
I didn't even grab my phone.
I ran.
By the time I reached the hallway, doors were already flying open. People spilled out in panic — barefoot, half-dressed, clutching children and bags and whatever they could grab in the moment. The smell of dust hung thick in the air, sharp and dry.
Outside, we gathered in the assembly area, confusion buzzing louder than the sirens that followed.
A chunk of the building was gone.
Not cracked.
Not damaged.
Gone.
Concrete and metal lay twisted on the ground like the building had simply… given up.
Ambulances arrived quickly. Police tape followed. Someone said we were lucky. No one had been hurt.
Lucky.
I stared at the broken structure and felt something hollow open inside my chest.
The building had always been old. So old that sometimes, when the pipes rattled or the floor creaked, I used to joke to myself that if I sneezed too hard, the whole thing might collapse.
I guess today it decided to prove me right.
It felt cruel in a way I couldn't explain.
As if the universe was tapping its fingers against my patience, asking quietly, How much more can you take before you break?
Humiliated at work.
Whispered about.
Labeled something I never chose to be.
And now this.
By afternoon, it was official.
The building was condemned.
We were told to collect essentials later under supervision. No one was allowed back in. No timeline. No guarantees.
Just like that, I was homeless.
By evening, I was sitting on the edge of a cheap motel bed, staring at the patterned carpet that smelled faintly of bleach and old air. Sunday afternoon had slipped through my fingers, wasted on shock and paperwork and trying not to cry in front of strangers.
I had two listings left.
Two.
If neither worked out, I didn't know what I would do. I had work tomorrow. Responsibilities. A life that didn't pause just because everything else had collapsed.
I dragged myself up, showered quickly, and forced myself back into motion.
On the way to the first listing, I stopped at a small coffee shop I hadn't noticed before.
"One cappuccino, please," I said with a smile but my voice hoarse.
I paid, stepped aside, and was still staring blankly at the pastry display when someone said my name.
"Elara?"
I turned.
For a moment, my brain refused to cooperate.
Then my face lit up before I could stop it.
"Kyla?"
She laughed, stepping forward and pulling me into a hug so familiar it made my throat tighten instantly. "Oh my God. You disappeared. I thought you fell off the face of the earth."
"I—" I laughed weakly. "I kind of did."
She pulled back just enough to look at me properly. "It's so good to see you."
"It's so good to see you too" I said honestly.
Kyla.
My only real friend from high school. The one who never treated me differently despite coming from a completely different world. The one who had always shared her lunch with me, defended me, walked me home when she didn't have to.
Life had pulled us apart slowly — undergrad, my mother's illness, jobs, survival. I had been so busy trying to stay afloat that I hadn't realized how much of my old life I'd let sink.
"I'm sorry I disappeared," I said quietly. "Things just… spiraled. Mom's treatment. Then the job. We had to move. I wasn't very present."
She waved it off immediately. "I know. I get it."
And she did.
There was no accusation in her eyes. Only concern.
"I actually moved here recently," she said. "New job. Fresh start."
"That's amazing," I smiled. "I promise I won't disappear again."
We both glanced at the time, and guilt nudged at me.
"I hate to rush," I said, "but I'm actually looking at apartments today. My building—" I hesitated. "It collapsed."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
I explained quickly, embarrassment creeping in despite myself.
"I am coming with you to check out these places." she said without hesitation.
"Are you sure?"
"I have nothing planned. And I'm not saying goodbye this soon."
I didn't argue.
The first place was… bad.
The neighborhood made my stomach tighten. The building leaned in a way that felt unsafe even before we stepped inside. The walls were cracked. The ceiling sagged.
I forced a smile anyway.
Kyla didn't.
"You are absolutely not renting this," she said flatly. "I'm serious."
I laughed weakly. "It's not that bad."
She looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Elara," she said gently but firmly, "this place is dangerous."
Then she took my hands.
"Come stay with me."
I blinked. "Kyla, I can't—"
"You can," she interrupted. "Until you find something else. You can pay rent if that makes you feel better. I'm new in town. I don't know many people. I'd love to have you."
The words hit harder than I expected.
I knew she came from money. I knew her place would be nice. That was part of what made the offer feel unbearable.
I hadn't been a good friend.
I had disappeared.
And here she was, opening her home to me like no time had passed at all.
My eyes burned.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I haven't been a very good friend to you. But you've always been the best one to me."
She hugged me tightly. "Stop. You'll make me cry."
I hugged her back, holding on longer than I meant to.
"Yes," I said finally. "I'd love to stay with you."
Her building was nothing like the places we'd just seen.
Glass. Light. Security.
We rode the elevator to the twenty-eighth floor. Only two apartments per floor. Quiet. Safe.
When she opened the door, I actually stopped breathing.
"Kyla," I whispered. "This is… beautiful."
She laughed. "You're staying. End of discussion."
She showed me the spare room. My room. My space.
"For the first time in weeks," she said softly, "you don't have to worry tonight."
And standing there, surrounded by warmth and light and kindness I hadn't asked for but desperately needed, I felt something loosen inside my chest.
Just when I thought I was drowning —
Life handed me a lifeline.
I still had friends.
And maybe… I could survive this after all.