005

Noya’s POV

The bank was quiet for a weekday morning.

I sat across from the account manager with my ID and the new account details already open on my phone. My voice stayed even while I requested the full transfer of every remaining personal fund, the closure of two old joint-linked savings accounts I had forgotten about, and the immediate issuance of a new debit card under my name only.

The woman across the desk smiled politely. “Of course, Ms. Blake. This will only take a few minutes.”

My phone vibrated against the table for the eleventh time.

Ethan.

I declined the call without looking.

A text followed instantly.

Ethan: Where the hell are you? We need to talk. You’re not thinking straight. Come home.

I locked the screen and slid the phone into my bag.

The account manager returned with the papers. I signed each one with a steady hand. When the final confirmation came through, the system pulsed once in the corner of my vision.

[Financial foundation: 41% complete.]
[Liquid assets secured.]
[Suggestion: Diversify. Cash reserves recommended before market instability.]

I already knew what came next.

Lottery numbers. Three draws from now. The exact sequence that had made a quiet man on the news a millionaire two weeks before the first outbreak reports. I had watched the replay in my previous life while sitting in a shelter that smelled of blood and bleach. I remembered every digit.

I would buy the ticket tonight.

When I stepped out of the bank, the city air felt sharper than it had an hour ago. Ordinary people walked past with coffee cups and shopping bags, completely unaware that the world had an expiration date.

My phone rang again.

This time it was a different number.

I almost ignored it. Then I saw the name that had just been saved from the earlier text.

Lily.

I answered.

“Noya?” Her voice was soft, careful, the same tone she had always used when she wanted something. “Ethan called me. He’s really worried. He said you’re talking about divorce and that you hit him. Can we meet? Just for a few minutes. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us.”

Misunderstanding.

I stopped walking.

Across the street, a woman in a pale blue dress stood near the crosswalk, phone pressed to her ear. She hadn’t noticed me yet. Same delicate face. Same practiced vulnerability. The woman Ethan had chosen to protect while I was torn apart.

Lily lowered the phone for a second, scanned the sidewalk, and then her eyes landed on me.

Surprise flickered across her face, followed by something softer. Concern. Or a good imitation of it.

She crossed the street toward me.

I stayed where I was.

“Noya,” she said when she reached me, slightly out of breath. “I’m so glad I caught you. Ethan is beside himself. He thinks you’re having some kind of breakdown. You know how he gets when he’s scared.”

I looked at her.

Really looked.

In my previous life I had defended this woman. Cooked for her. Given her money. Believed her tears. I had dragged the man she loved onto a helicopter and left her behind, thinking I was doing the right thing.

She had repaid me by taking everything that was supposed to be mine.

“I’m not having a breakdown,” I said.

Lily’s smile faltered. “Of course not. I just—he asked me to talk to you. He still cares about you, Noya. Whatever happened this morning, it can be fixed. Families fight. It doesn’t mean—”

“We are not family.”

The words came out flat.

Lily blinked. “What?”

“You and I,” I said, “are not family. We never were. You were the girl we sponsored. Then you became the woman my husband slept with while I was still wearing his ring. That is the full extent of our relationship.”

Color drained from her face.

“That’s not—Noya, you’ve misunderstood. Ethan and I never—”

“Don’t.” I stepped closer. Not enough to draw attention from passersby, but enough that she had to tilt her head back to hold my gaze. “I am not the same person who used to believe your soft voice and careful tears. I don’t need the details. I don’t need the excuses. And I especially don’t need you acting as the messenger between me and the man I’m divorcing.”

Lily’s lower lip trembled. The old performance. The one that used to make me feel cruel for even questioning her.

It did nothing now.

“You’re scaring me,” she whispered.

“Good.”

I turned and walked away before she could find another fragile sentence.

Behind me, I heard her call my name once. Soft. Wounded. Designed to pull me back.

I didn’t stop.

My phone buzzed again. Ethan.

I answered this time.

“Where are you?” His voice was tight with anger. “Lily just texted. She said you were cruel to her. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

I watched the traffic light change ahead of me.

“I told you this morning,” I said. “I’m done. Stop sending her to talk to me. Stop calling. The next time you hear from me will be through a lawyer.”

“You don’t get to decide that alone, Noya. We have a life together. Assets. History. You can’t just—”

“Watch me.”

I ended the call.

Then I blocked both numbers.

The system flickered.

[Emotional interference reduced.]
[Mission progress: 47%.]
[Next recommended action: Acquire high-value portable assets.]

I slipped the phone back into my bag and kept walking.

The city moved around me like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

I had three weeks before the first lottery draw.

Two years before the world ended.

And zero intention of leaving a single useful thing in Ethan’s hands when it did.