Sarah's POV
The loud crash shook me awake before my alarm could. My eyes flew open and my heart raced fast. For a moment I thought someone had broken into my apartment. I sat up quickly, breathing hard, waiting for another sound. Then it came again, a sharp click from the old heater fighting to turn on.
I let out a long breath and rubbed my face. My hands felt heavy. My head felt tight. I checked my phone.
5:00 AM.
Another early morning. Another day to survive.
I pushed my blanket off and stepped onto the cold floor. My toes curled from the icy shock. It was freezing in the room again. I kept telling myself I would fix the heater one day, but one day never came. There was never enough money left for repairs.
I stared at the little clock on the table. I had ten minutes to get moving. If I stayed in bed even a second longer, I knew I would fall back asleep. Losing a shift meant losing money, and losing money meant trouble. The kind of trouble I could not afford.
My tiny apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Some days the silence felt soft. Other days it felt like a heavy blanket I could not escape from. Today it felt heavy. I walked to the small kitchen counter and grabbed the paper bag sitting there. Inside were two breakfast sandwiches I bought last night.
One for me.
One for the man outside the coffee shop.
The homeless man I passed every morning.
My stomach growled when I smelled the food. I pressed my hand to my belly and looked away. I hated how often I went hungry just to make things stretch. I worked mornings at the bakery and nights cleaning offices, yet I was still always running behind. Rent was due in a few days. My mother needed medicine. Everything felt like a race I kept losing.
I touched the paper bag again. Warm. Soft. Comforting. The sandwiches were a luxury for me, but I bought two anyway. Each morning I told myself it was the last time. Each morning I told myself I would keep both for myself. But when I saw him sitting there alone, wrapped in that thin blanket, something in me always softened.
I closed my eyes, but another memory rushed in before I could stop it.
Three years ago.
Christmas Eve.
A night that should have been perfect.
A night that broke something inside me.
I was standing in my aunt's living room, holding a gift in both hands. The tree glowed with bright lights. Music played softly. Marcus stood a few feet away, smiling like everything was fine. My heart beat fast because I thought he was going to propose. I had even practiced what I would say.
But instead, he looked at me with cold eyes. He told me I was not enough for him. He said he wanted someone with more class, more beauty, more everything. My cousin Victoria laughed from behind him. She touched his hand as if she already belonged there.
Then he kissed her. Right in front of me. Right in front of everyone.
The memory hit like a punch every time. My face burned with shame even now. That night had carved a deep mark inside me. It made me careful with my heart. It made me afraid to trust anyone again.
I opened my eyes and looked at the sandwiches again. Something in my chest tightened. I was tired of hurting. I was tired of feeling small. I wanted something to feel right, even if it was something tiny.
I grabbed my coat, slipped the sandwiches into my bag, and stepped out of the apartment. The hallway was dim. My footsteps echoed quietly as I walked toward the stairs. Outside, the sky was still dark. A few cars drove by. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and started walking fast.
The bus stop was a short walk away. My legs moved quickly, but my mind felt slow. I kept thinking about the man who sat near the coffee shop. I did not even know his name, yet he had become a part of my mornings. Something steady in a world that kept shaking.
My bus arrived, and I climbed in. The ride felt longer than usual. I watched the city pass by through the window. Shops still closed. Lights still low. People half asleep. Everyone looked tired. Everyone looked lost in their own thoughts.
When the bus stopped, I stepped off and walked toward the bakery. My hands were cold, but the paper bag inside my coat felt warm. I walked faster, my heart beating strangely. I knew he would be there, just like always.
When I reached the corner, I slowed down. I breathed in and out slowly. Then I turned my head.
There he was.
Sitting on the ground, legs crossed under the thin blanket. His clothes were old. His beard thick. His hair messy. Anyone else would look away. But his eyes did something to me. They were kind. Almost gentle. The kind of eyes that seemed to say, I see you.
He looked up as I approached. For a moment, we just stared at each other. Something warm flickered in my chest. I hated that feeling. I didn't want to feel anything. Feelings were dangerous. Feelings got me hurt before.
My fingers touched the sandwich in my bag. I swallowed hard. My stomach growled again, louder this time. I thought about my shift. I thought about how little I had eaten last night. I thought about the bills waiting at home.
I thought about Marcus and the way he had looked at me three years ago.
Like I was small.
Like I was forgettable.
Like I did not matter.
My jaw tightened. My eyes stung. Something inside me snapped a little.
He mattered.
This man sitting in the cold mattered.
Maybe kindness was the only part of me Marcus had not broken.
I took the sandwich out of the bag. My hand shook. I stepped forward.
His eyes warmed instantly. He sat up straighter, surprised.
"Hi," I said quietly.
He nodded. His lips curved into a soft smile. A smile that held more warmth than the heater in my apartment ever had.
I held out the sandwich. My arm trembled.
For a second, I hesitated.
For a second, I almost pulled it back.
For a second, fear and hunger and doubt all tangled together.
But then I pushed past it.
I pushed past everything.
I placed the sandwich in his hands.
And as the wind brushed against my face, a chill ran through me.
My simple choice suddenly felt bigger.
More dangerous.
Like it had opened a door I did not know existed.
A door I could not close again.
My breath caught. My heart pounded. Something in the air shifted around me.
I stepped back slowly.
My fingers curled into a fist.
My chest tightened with fear and something else. Something I could not name yet.
"This might change everything," a small voice whispered inside me.
And I knew that voice was right.
I was going to give him the sandwich. No matter what it cost.