The night air was thick with tension, the only sounds his ragged breaths and the hurried slap of his boots against the wet pavement. The dim glow of streetlights flickered against the slick surfaces of buildings as he weaved through narrow alleyways, his heartbeat pounding louder than his footsteps.His fingers fumbled with the zipper of his backpack, desperation clawing at his movements. He needed to get it out—needed to get rid of it. The small box inside was heavier than it should have been, as if it carried the weight of something far beyond his understanding.A sudden turn, a miscalculation. He skidded to a stop, eyes darting wildly. A dead end.Terror gripped him, raw and suffocating. His trembling hands finally pried open the box, but in his panic, the small green crystal inside tumbled free. It hit the cold pavement with a soft clink and rolled, spinning toward the edge of a shallow stream running alongside the alley. He lunged for it, but his fingers grasped nothing but damp air. The crystal vanished into the water with barely a ripple.Tears welled in his eyes. He turned, breath hitching, chest heaving.Then—it struck.A force unseen, a terror undefined. We can only say the night swallowed him whole.Elsewhere, The shrill beeping of an alarm clock shattered the quiet morning air. A groggy hand slapped at the snooze button before Emma bolted upright, eyes wide in realization."The second alarm!" she gasped, throwing off the covers.She scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over a pile of clothes as she rushed toward the bathroom. A five-year-old giggle echoed from down the hall, followed by the unmistakable sound of something toppling over."Lily! What are you up to?" she called, frantically brushing her teeth with one hand while pulling on a sweater with the other."I’m getting ready!" came the innocent reply, followed by a loud thud.Emma groaned, rinsed her mouth, and rushed into Lily’s room. The little girl stood triumphantly on her bed, her tiny arms buried in a sweater three sizes too big."That’s not your school uniform, sweetheart." Emma sighed, hiding a smile as she helped Lily change.Downstairs, breakfast was a chaotic affair of spilled milk, mismatched shoes, and a race to find backpacks. Emma tossed a piece of toast in her mouth while wrestling Lily’s hair into a ponytail."We are going to be so late!" she muttered, ushering Lily out the door.As they hurried toward the school van, Emma exhaled and laughed as Lily waved goodbye. Another hectic morning, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.Just as she set off Lily to the school van, her phone buzzed. Emma pulled it from her pocket and saw Jack’s name flashing on the screen."Emma, where are you? You're late!" his voice came through, tinged with impatience."I know, I know! I'm on my way!" she huffed, already unlocking the bike chained to the rack.She hopped on, pedaling fast, weaving through the morning bustle. The streets were packed—cars honking, drivers gesturing in frustration. Emma groaned. "Great. Just what I needed."Seeing the gridlock ahead, she veered onto the narrow sidewalk path, dodging pedestrians. "Sorry! Excuse me! Coming through!" she called out, squeezing past startled walkers and tight spaces between lampposts. A man holding a cup of coffee barely moved in time, and a splash of steaming liquid landed on his shirt. "Oh! Sorry!" she yelled over her shoulder, wincing at his disgruntled expression.She zigzagged between newspaper stands, street vendors, and slow-moving crowds. A vendor selling roasted corn gave her a disapproving shake of his head as she nearly clipped the corner of his cart. "I swear, one day I’m going to get arrested for reckless biking," she muttered to herself.A sudden blast of wind caught her hair as she sped up, pumping her legs harder. Her mind raced along with her wheels. This job isn’t for everyone. It’s chaotic, exhausting, and unpredictable. Most people wouldn't last a week. The long hours, the unpredictable calls, the constant state of being on edge—it wore people down fast.Yet, despite the madness, despite the sleepless nights and rushed mornings, she kept pushing forward. She might be late, but she was getting there. And in this job, that was half the battle won.Emma finally skidded to a stop in front of the bank, breathing hard. The place was a mess—police lights flashing, officers speaking with anxious bank employees, and shattered glass from a broken window glittering on the pavement. The aftermath of an attempted robbery.Jack stood near the entrance, arms crossed, shaking his head as he spotted her."You took your sweet time," he teased, though his smirk softened the words.Emma hopped off her bike and leaned against it, catching her breath. She was striking, with deep brown eyes that carried a sharp intelligence, full lips that easily curled into a confident smirk, and rich, sun-kissed skin that contrasted beautifully against her dark, wavy hair. Dressed in a professional yet stylish outfit—fitted slacks, a crisp blouse, and a tailored blazer—she looked every bit the tenacious reporter she was."I know, I know. Traffic was a nightmare, and I had to dodge half the city."Jack chuckled. "I figured. Next time, maybe wake up on time?"Emma rolled her eyes, offering a sheepish grin. "Sorry for making you wait."Jack waved her off. "Ah, don’t worry about it. You’re here now. Let’s get to work."For a year now, Emma had been a reporter, covering everything from local crime to political scandals. Jack, her dedicated cameraman, had been by her side through it all. They made a good team, balancing each other out with Jack’s steady patience and Emma’s relentless determination.She exhaled and straightened up, glancing at the crime scene before them. Another day, another crisis. And somehow, despite everything, she wouldn’t have it any other way.After the long and exhausting day, Emma and Jack finally made their way back to their workplace—Sky Vision Group, one of the top investigative media houses in the city. The newsroom was alive with the usual buzz of ringing phones, clicking keyboards, and the faint murmur of news anchors rehearsing their scripts.Emma sighed as she pushed through the glass doors, her legs aching from all the running around. Jack trailed behind her, camera bag slung over his shoulder, looking just as drained.They made their way to Mr. Patrick's office, their editor-in-chief. He was a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a permanently furrowed brow, the kind of boss who rarely handed out praise but expected nothing short of excellence.Emma placed the neatly written article on his desk, complete with Jack’s best shots from the crime scene. “Here’s everything from today’s robbery,” she said, resisting the urge to slump into the chair.Mr. Patrick picked up the report, flipping through it with a practiced eye. He nodded slightly at some parts, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk—a rare sign of approval. But instead of voicing it, he simply closed the file and leaned back in his chair.“Hm. Decent work,” he muttered, as if that was the best compliment he could muster. “This will be published in tomorrow’s edition.”Jack smirked, whispering to Emma, “Translation: ‘I’m actually impressed but too stubborn to say it.’”Emma stifled a laugh. “Understood, sir. We’ll be ready for the next one.”Mr. Patrick exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple as he looked between them. Then, with a wave of his hand, he said, “Jack, step outside for a moment. I need a word with Emma.”Jack frowned but didn’t argue. He shot Emma a questioning glance before shrugging and heading for the door. “Good luck,” he muttered under his breath before stepping out and closing it behind him.Emma’s stomach tightened. The moment the door clicked shut, Mr. Patrick sighed and leaned forward. “I’ve got some bad news, Emma.”She crossed her arms, bracing herself. “Go on.”“Samantha is back.”Emma’s breath hitched, but she kept her expression neutral. Samantha. The one name she never wanted to hear again.“She left her job at Global News,” Patrick continued. “And given her experience and… well, her track record, I have to consider what’s best for this company.”Emma felt the heat rise to her face. “So what? You’re replacing me?”Before he could answer, the door swung open.There she was.Samantha. Tall, elegant, and as annoyingly smug as ever. She strode in with her signature confidence, tossing her honey-brown curls over her shoulder as she looked Emma up and down like she was already measuring her for failure.“Emma,” she said with a smirk. “Still struggling to make headlines, I see.”Emma clenched her jaw. “Samantha. Still stabbing people in the back for a job, I see.”Samantha chuckled, leaning against the desk. “Oh, don’t take it personally. This is just business, sweetheart. I go where the real talent belongs.”Emma’s fists tightened. “You mean where you can steal the spotlight from people who actually work for it?”Patrick slammed his palm on the desk. “Enough. Both of you.”They fell silent, but the tension between them burned hot.Patrick looked between them, then leaned back in his chair. “I don’t have time for this. Here’s how it’s going to be. One week. You both go out and get the best story you can find. Real journalism—no fluff pieces, no easy scoops. The best story wins.”Emma narrowed her eyes. “And the loser?”Patrick exhaled. “The loser walks. Only one of you stays.”A slow smile spread across Samantha’s face. “Sounds fair.” She turned to Emma. “Hope you’re ready to fight for it.”Emma scoffed. “I don’t need to fight for what I already earned.”Patrick gestured toward the door. “You’re both dismissed. Get out there and prove yourselves.”Emma stormed out of the office, anger boiling in her chest. She barely noticed Jack waiting outside until he caught up with her.“What happened?” he asked.Emma clenched her jaw, eyes burning. “I have one week to keep my job.”And with that, she marched out, ready for war.At lunchtime, Emma needed an escape. A breather. Somewhere away from deadlines, rivalries, and the looming pressure of the contest.So she went to her favorite coffee shop—Bean & Brew—a cozy little spot tucked between a bookstore and an old record shop. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans wrapped around her like a warm hug the moment she stepped inside.She sighed, rubbing her temples as she made her way to the counter. “The usual, Lucy.”The barista, Lucy—a petite woman with a messy bun and sharp, knowing eyes—grinned as she grabbed a cup. “One hot, extra-strong coffee for the grumpiest reporter in town. Rough day?”Emma let out a humorless chuckle. “You have no idea.”Lucy poured the coffee and slid it across the counter. “Sit. Spill.”Emma took the cup, found her favorite corner seat, and exhaled before speaking. “I’m about to lose my job.”Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Straight to the punch.”Emma stirred her coffee absentmindedly. “My boss wants to replace me with someone ‘more experienced.’ I have a week to prove I’m better.”Lucy whistled. “That’s brutal.”“Tell me about it.” Emma took a long sip of her coffee, letting the warmth soothe her frayed nerves. “I don’t even know where to start. Samantha’s ruthless. She’ll pull every trick in the book. I can’t afford to lose, but I also don’t want to sink to her level.”Lucy leaned on the counter, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Sounds like you need a different approach.”Emma scoffed. “Like what? A miracle?”Lucy smirked. “No, like wisdom. You know, my grandmother used to say—‘A lion doesn’t chase flies; it hunts bigger prey.’”Emma blinked. “Okay… and that means?”Lucy chuckled. “It means stop worrying about what Samantha’s doing. Forget her. Focus on finding the best damn story out there. One so good, she won’t even be competition.”Emma sat back, considering that. “Huh.”“And hey,” Lucy added, winking, “if all else fails, I’ll hire you as my official coffee tester.”Emma laughed, shaking her head. “Tempting. But first, I need a story.”Lucy raised her cup in a mock toast. “Then go hunt, lioness.”After a long, exhausting day, Emma finally made it home. She pushed open the door of her small apartment, the familiar scent of vanilla-scented candles and freshly baked cookies greeting her.At the dining table, Lily sat cross-legged on a chair, happily munching on a peanut butter sandwich. The moment she saw Emma, her face lit up. "Auntie Em!"Emma barely had time to put down her bag before Lily launched herself at her, wrapping her tiny arms around Emma's waist—as far as they could reach for a five-year-old. Emma laughed, hugging her back tightly."Hey, munchkin! Missed me?" she asked, ruffling the little girl’s curls.Lily grinned. "Mmhmm! I finished my homework, and I even helped clean up! Well… kind of."Emma raised an eyebrow playfully. “Kind of?”Lily giggled mischievously. “I accidentally spilled some juice… but I cleaned it up real good!”Emma chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s my little hurricane.”She glanced at the grocery bags she had dropped by the door, and before she could even ask, Lily was already running over. "I'll help!"Together, they carried the bags into the kitchen, setting them down on the counter. As Emma began sorting the items—vegetables in the fridge, cereal in the cupboard—her thoughts drifted, and she found herself narrating her story in her mind."Lily isn't my daughter, but in every way that matters, she might as well be.Her mother—my elder sister—passed away from an illness just two years after Lily was born. It was sudden. Unfair. And from that moment on, it was just the two of us.I had no idea how to raise a child. I was barely holding my own life together, chasing stories, working late nights. But one look into her tiny, tear-filled eyes, and I knew—I couldn't let her go through life alone.So I stepped in. Became her guardian. Her Auntie. Her mother figure.And I love it."**Emma smiled softly as she placed a loaf of bread in the pantry. She wouldn’t trade this life for anything."Auntie Em?"She turned to see Lily sitting on the counter, kicking her little feet. Her big, curious eyes studied Emma."Yeah, Lily?"Lily hesitated, then spoke. "Do you think… I could be a doctor when I grow up?"Emma blinked, surprised by the question. "Of course you can. Why do you ask?"Lily looked down, playing with the hem of her dress. "I was just thinking… if I become a doctor, maybe I can help people like Mommy. So no one else has to get sick like she did."Emma felt her heart tighten. She took a deep breath, sitting on the close sit so she was at Lily’s level."You can be anything you want, Lily. And I will do whatever it takes to help you get there."Lily beamed. "Really?"Emma tapped her nose. "Really. One day, I’ll be bragging about my brilliant niece, Dr. Lily, saving lives and making the world better."Lily giggled. "And you'll still be my Auntie Em!"Emma pulled and held her close."Always, munchkin. Always."After finishing up in the kitchen, Emma scooped Lily up into her arms and carried her to her bedroom. The little girl yawned, rubbing her sleepy eyes as Emma tucked her under the soft, pink blankets."Sleep tight, munchkin."Lily blinked up at her with a drowsy smile. "Goodnight, Auntie Em."Emma brushed a strand of hair from Lily’s forehead and kissed it gently. Within moments, the little girl was already drifting into sleep, her small chest rising and falling steadily.Emma stood there for a moment, watching her. She was so peaceful, so full of dreams. And if Lily could hold onto her dreams so fiercely, then maybe Emma needed to do the same.She sighed, retreating to her own room. As she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind raced."I have to fight for my place. For my future. Just like Lily, I have dreams too. And I can't let them slip away."With a determined breath, she reached for the lamp beside her bed and flicked it off. The room fell into darkness.Tomorrow was another day. Another chance.And she wasn’t going to waste it.

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