IT HAD barely been a week since Harper started her new job at Freya's shop, and she was already growing fond of the routine. The pace was slow, and Freya's welcoming attitude made the work feel less like a task and more like an opportunity to simply exist without the overwhelming expectations that used to haunt her.

What struck Harper the most was how different this life was from anything she had ever imagined. She worked only three days a week, each day filled with small tasks that gave her enough time to get comfortable in the quiet rhythms of the shop. The rest of the week, she spent wandering around New Orleans, exploring the city's hidden corners, or finding a quiet spot in a café to lose herself in the moment. She didn't need to party, didn't need to drown herself in alcohol or meaningless distractions. She found solace in just being, in embracing the stillness that came with taking a break from her chaotic past.

She had not expected this simplicity to be so fulfilling. Not the big, grand adventures she had once dreamed of, but a more humble, grounded life. Being away from her parents' constant pressures was already a breath of fresh air. She didn't have to answer to anyone, didn't have to perform to their standards or live in their shadow. It was just her, carving out a space for herself in a life that was entirely her own.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The one thing Harper had not anticipated was how quickly Freya had become more than just a boss. Freya was a force of nature, full of energy and laughter, yet with a depth that Harper hadn't expected. Over time, their relationship had evolved from a professional one to something more personal. They had started to talk more outside of work, sharing little snippets of their lives with one another, and before long, Harper found herself growing fond of Freya, even though she was still hesitant to let anyone get too close.

It wasn't that she didn't like Freya. In fact, she adored her. But the thought of allowing someone into her life, especially knowing the darkness looming over her, was terrifying. She didn't want to form connections, only to have them fade away when her time ran out. She was dying, and the closer she got to people, the harder it would be when the inevitable happened. But still, she couldn't help but feel the warmth of friendship blooming in her chest. She wanted it—needed it—but it was a dangerous temptation. The freedom of being anonymous, of being just another face in the crowd, was so much easier. No pity. No sympathy. Just living, for however long she had left.

Most days, Harper found herself wandering the streets of New Orleans, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. She had not heard from her parents since the painful conversation with her mother. She knew it was going to hurt them, but the choice had already been made. She couldn't go back. She couldn't live the life they had planned for her. She had to do this for herself, no matter how much it broke her heart to think of the consequences.

On one of her days off, Harper found herself in a small, quaint café tucked away on a quiet street. The aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods filled the air as she stepped inside, scanning the room for an empty seat. Only one other person was sitting at the counter, a man deep in thought, staring blankly ahead. Harper felt a strange pull towards him as if something about him was drawing her in. Without really thinking, her legs carried her toward him, and she slid into the seat next to him.

"You seem like you have a lot on your mind," Harper blurted out before she had time to second-guess herself.

The man snapped out of his daze and turned to her, his expression shifting from confusion to mild amusement. "Oh, yes, that's exactly what's going on," he chuckled softly, a hint of warmth in his voice.

Harper smiled and extended her hand. "Sorry, I just... approached you when there were a bunch of empty seats. I'm Harper Kingsley."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Elijah Mikaelson," he said, shaking her hand with a firm grip. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harper. And I must admit, I'm rather flattered that you chose me for a conversation."

Harper couldn't help but let out a small gasp at his name, her curiosity piqued. "Do you happen to know Freya Mikaelson?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Elijah's gaze shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as he tried to assess her, but then he relaxed. There was something about this woman, something about her that didn't quite add up. He couldn't place it—her aura was unusual, faintly off—but she seemed harmless enough. And despite the strange pull he felt, he knew she was just an ordinary human.

"Yes, Freya is my older sister," Elijah replied with a smile that was as smooth and genuine as the rest of him. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and intrigue as he studied Harper.

Harper's jaw dropped slightly, the surprise evident on her face. "Small world!" she exclaimed, then paused, realizing she might be rambling. "Freya is amazing. You see, I— Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I'm just rambling. I do that too much." She raised a hand to her neck in an embarrassed gesture, letting out a soft chuckle.

Elijah watched her, intrigued by how effortlessly she spoke, her openness refreshing in its authenticity. Despite the oddness of their first meeting, he felt an odd desire to know more about the woman who had just approached him so boldly.

"No, not at all," he said, his voice warm. "I would be delighted to hear your story, Ms. Harper."

The words caught Harper off guard but in a pleasant way. She wasn't used to being listened to like this, by someone genuinely wanting to know her thoughts, and her life. It was a strange but comforting feeling. And for the first time in a while, she felt like maybe, just maybe, this unexpected encounter might lead to something more than a casual chat in a coffee shop.

She met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and felt a flicker of hope stir in her chest.