✓ | REMORSE, elijah mikaelson

The sterile white walls of the doctor’s office seemed to press in on Harper, the fluorescent lights humming a sickly tune above her head. "Cancer," the word echoed, a cold, sharp blade severing her life into a before and an after. Her parents' sobs were a muffled soundtrack to her spiraling thoughts, but Harper felt a strange, detached calm.

She had a year, at most. A year to live, not just exist. And she wouldn't spend it in a hospital bed, a burden, a patient. She wouldn't be defined by sickness. The decision was swift, silent, and absolute.

Weeks later, with a single duffle bag and a pocketful of cash, Harper Kingsley walked away from her old life, from the quiet kindness she had always offered, and from the love that now felt suffocating. The open road called, a blank canvas for the remaining days of a life she finally intended to live on her own terms.

Her journey, a haphazard collection of rides and cheap motels, culminated in the humid, vibrant embrace of New Orleans. The city’s energy was a jolt, a stark contrast to the quiet despair she’d left behind. But the practicalities of survival quickly asserted themselves. She needed a job, and fast.