Chapter 1Ameera’s Pov“Hey, Ameera, don’t forget to wash the dishes before locking up.”“Of course, sir. How could I forget?” I responded with a fake smile.“Good.” He tugged on his jacket—the same one he wore every day. I swear, it used to be red. Now it’s this sad, faded thing, like it gave up on life.I dragged myself into the kitchen. Plates everywhere. My hands were already sore, but what choice did I have? The smell of fried food, alcohol, and burnt barbecue was glued to my clothes, my skin, even my hair. No matter how many showers I took, it stayed. That was the life of working night shifts at a greasy little diner.Outside, New York was doing what it always did—being loud. Honking, yelling, music blasting from cars, someone laughing too hard a street over. Past ten, the city wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.I scrubbed the last greasy plate, tossed it on the rack, and grabbed the keys from the pocket of some nasty apron hanging by the door. Hygiene wasn’t exactly a priority
Last Updated : 2025-09-17 Read more