Forbidden's Nights

A Note to My Readers: This translation was generated by an AI. While it allows me to share this story with you quickly, it may result in some issues with the text’s natural flow, rhythm, or unique style. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

Thirty seconds. That was exactly how much time I had left before I was officially late for my shift at the Morning Dew.

I was sprinting down the damp sidewalk of Fairfield’s upscale suburb, my purse smacking against my hip and my thoughts in total chaos. Leo, my eleven-year-old son, had forgotten his science project this morning. Between his panicked whining, a piece of toast landing jam-side down, and the call from my lawyer announcing that my father-in-law, Alistair Kensington, was requesting a psychological evaluation for custody... I was at my breaking point.

At thirty, my life felt like balancing on a barbed-wire tightrope. It was a daily survival act. One step too close to exhaustion, and I risked plummeting into the depression looming just below. One step too close to anger, and I handed Alistair the exact ammunition he needed to paint me as an unstable mother. It was a high-wire act, a fragile stability. One wrong move, and my life would shatter.

I could feel the crushing weight of my responsibilities piling up on my shoulders. Yet, I held on. I clung to the most beautiful thing life had given me: my son. We were healthy, we still had a roof over our heads, and the fridge was full. People survived on less.

I rounded the corner at breakneck speed, my eyes glued to my watch. I still had a good half-mile to go; there was no way I wasn’t going to be late. I’d started this job three months ago and was desperate to land a permanent position. Even though Chloe, my manager, was an absolute sweetheart, I was never going to see that contract if I kept showing up late.

Suddenly, I slammed into a solid wall, and the world tilted. My vision turned into a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors as I began a slow-motion fall toward the pavement. I flailed my arms, desperately grasping for an anchor.

Something. Anything.

Finally, my hand found that something. A grip that was simultaneously firm and... soft. Instinctively, I squeezed, buying myself just enough stability to avoid face-planting on the concrete. At that exact moment, a pained grunt reached my ears. A guttural, muffled sound.

The wall talks?

My gaze dragged itself up a dark, custom-tailored wool coat, past a crisp white button-down, before colliding with two stormy blue eyes, wide with shock and obvious agony.

A man. Not a wall, Bloom.

“Oh my God!” I gasped, my fingers involuntarily clenching around an anatomy that felt anything but imaginary.

The realization hit me like a paralyzing bolt of lightning. I had just... I had just... I had just grabbed his junk! What I was currently holding in my hand was... it was...

“I... Oh my God...” I repeated, my brain entirely short-circuiting from the humiliation.

I didn’t let go. Worse, fueled by sheer panic, my fingers tightened a fraction of an inch. Another hiss slipped through the stranger’s teeth.

“If this is a self-defense technique,” he choked out, his voice strained, “I can confirm it’s surgically effective. However, if this is your way of hitting on me, while I’m incredibly flattered, I have to admit it’s a little too direct. Even for me.”

My cheeks were burning so hot you could have fried eggs on them. Around me, I could hear a few scattered laughs from bystanders enjoying the free show I’d just put on. I finally dropped my “anchor” like it was a hot coal. I didn’t even bother trying to get up, genuinely mortified by the highly inappropriate incident.

“I’m so sorry! I am so, so sorry! I was running, I wasn’t looking, my son forgot his watch, I was looking at the project... well, no, I’m the watch... I mean I’m not a watch but... I’m late and I didn’t mean to... I was just looking for a point of balance!”

I kept babbling in absolute gibberish that even I didn’t understand. The man took a deep breath, slowly straightening up while keeping one hand cautiously hovering over his lower stomach. A crinkle of amusement began to chase the pain away from his eyes, which was somehow more intimidating than if he’d been furious. He studied me, taking in my total distress with an intensity that made me blush even harder. I kind of wanted to squeeze my eyes shut. Like a toddler... if I can’t see him, he can’t see me, right?

“A point of balance,” he repeated, his voice laced with mischief. “Let’s just say you aimed straight for the center of gravity. That’s bold.”

He glanced at his watch—a piece of hardware that probably cost more than most of my worldly possessions combined—then brought his attention back to me.

“What exactly are you late for? Finishing off another victim?” he asked, offering me a hand to help me up.

His question snapped me back to reality. Work! Oh, Lord!

“Lord! Work! I’m late.”

I snatched my purse, frantically scooping up the few things that had spilled onto the sidewalk during the crash. Then, completely ignoring his outstretched hand, I vaulted to my feet and bolted, my heart pounding against my ribs. I didn’t look back, my mind entirely consumed by the disastrous consequences my tardiness could trigger.

It took me another fifteen minutes to burst through the back door of the Morning Dew. Thanks to my little tumble, I was officially twenty minutes late. I rushed into the breakroom to throw on my apron, using the mirror to tame my hair into a more professional ponytail. I naturally had fiery red, wavy hair that usually looked great, but it tangled if you so much as looked at it, quickly giving me major mad-scientist vibes. I didn’t have time to worry about my appearance, though. I practically sprinted behind the counter where Chloe was waiting.

“Bloom! Finally!” Chloe, my manager, exclaimed, walking over.

“Chloe, I’m so sorry,” I whispered frantically, practically begging her. “I’m really sorry, I had to run back to the school and then I...”

“Don’t worry, I knew you’d get here eventually,” she joked, giving my shoulder a friendly squeeze.

She handed me a clean rag, her hazel eyes full of kindness. I gave her a deeply grateful smile. Chloe had a cheerful, optimistic, almost maternal vibe. She was also a fantastic listener. It was dangerously easy to confide in her. Honestly, even if you didn’t plan on saying anything, you always ended up telling her your life story. She just inspired trust.

“It’s just... this job is my lifeline, Chloe. I need it. So... thank you,” I murmured, starting to frantically wipe down the zinc counter.

It was the truth. The Morning Dew was my safety net, my anchor to normalcy. For two years now, I’d been bouncing between odd jobs to pay off my debts. It was a never-ending grind, and I’d faced my fair share of failures. Between the interviews that went nowhere, the exploitative bosses, the ones who “forgot” to pay, the grueling shifts... I felt like I had finally drawn a winning ticket. Sure, it was just a decent-paying part-time barista gig, but the café had a soft, welcoming atmosphere. And that was all thanks to Chloe.

“Stop acting like you’re going to get fired every time you cough a little too hard,” she snorted. “By the way, I meant to tell you... There’s a change of plans today. A VIP guest is arriving, we...”

The crisp chime of the bell above the door cut her off. A customer had just walked in.

“Welcome to the Morning Dew!” I greeted instantly, cutting Chloe off.

I saw her roll her eyes before retreating to her office. I pasted my best customer-service smile on my face to serve the guy. My racing heartbeat was slowly settling down. I was stepping back into my role: Bloom, the little Morning Dew barista doing her best to memorize the regulars’ orders. I busied myself behind the espresso machine, soaking in the comforting hiss of the steam wand. Now that the panic had passed, I decided to frame my twenty-minute delay as my little daily victory: I had managed not to rip my tights during my fall, my son had his science project, and Chloe had been gracious enough not to fire me.

Final score: Bloom 1, Chaos 0. As the cherry on top, I had even managed to cop a feel of some exotic fruits without having to tuck a dollar bill into a G-string. Who else could say that? And all before 9:00 a.m. The rich smell of roasted coffee beans filled the space, chasing away my lingering embarrassment. I finished ringing up the customer and headed over to table four, hoping my killer smile would be enough to bring in some decent tips.

The Morning Dew was a quiet, cozy little coffee shop. It opened at 6:00 a.m. and closed at 6:00 p.m., mostly serving hot drinks and pastries. It was located in a nice neighborhood, surrounded by artisan boutiques. It was the perfect spot: far enough from my house to avoid any overly familiar faces, but close enough that I didn’t waste my life commuting. I had been incredibly lucky to stumble upon this place. However, I didn’t get a chance to chat with Chloe again; a morning rush quickly swarmed my counter, while she was already tackling the massive monthly inventory order.

I took advantage of a lull after the morning rush to wipe down the display case, letting my mind wander. As much as I loved working here, this paycheck wasn’t enough to drown my debts, let alone cover my lawyer’s fees. Earlier, I’d overheard a conversation between two female customers that immediately caught my attention: they were talking about a highly trendy strip club nearby. An acquaintance of theirs worked there, and they joked that if they had known how good the money was earlier, they would never have set foot in this coffee shop. According to them, the place was very exclusive, fiercely protective of its dancers, and put on high-quality, actual shows.

I had been turning the idea over and over in my head. It terrified me as much as it thrilled me. I really needed the cash. Plus, I had always dreamed of being a dancer. If my life hadn’t collided with Julian’s twelve years ago, I could have auditioned for the dance company of my dreams. But what would happen if my father-in-law found out? He would move heaven and earth to paint me as an unfit mother and strip me of custody entirely. That was out of the question.

That internal tug-of-war had been eating at me for days, ruining my sleep. Then came yet another power outage. Leo was getting sick and tired of doing his homework by candlelight. And so was I. Not of doing my homework, but of living like we were in the Dark Ages. Ultimately, the call of the money had won out. I had ended up booking an interview for tonight.

The café door swung open, the bell chiming brightly.

“Welcome to the Morning—”

The words died in my throat as I stared, dumbfounded, at the person walking into the coffee shop. The man standing there looked exactly like the one I had just literally run into. My gaze crashed into the cloudy sky of his eyes, and I drowned in them, completely losing my train of thought.

“Well, well,” he murmured, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “My point of balance.”

Final score: Bloom 0, Life 1... the universe really has a sick sense of humor.