The Chance Effect

Chapter 1.

Elodie's POV

In the blazing midday Los Angeles sun, I was stuck in endless traffic. Shiny high-end cars filled the West Coast streets, blasting tunes from a beat-up bumper ahead. Aspiring "influencers" flaunted their stylish wheels, rocking designer shades that scream luxury.

And there's me, Elodie—a bridge between two worlds. My black vintage Porsche, once my mother's, bore the marks of its history. I didn't prioritize a fancy car; it was about substance and significance. It wasn't to showcase wealth but to symbolize the distinctive path my family envisioned for me.

Can this traffic get any worse? I sink deeper into my seat, frustration seeping into my posture. The palm trees along the sidewalk sway gently in the whispered coastal breeze above the incessant honking of cars, aggravating my frustration even further, serving as a constant reminder that time was slipping away on my journey to Sunset Beach.

As the car in front of me crept forward, a side street enticed me. Seizing the opportunity, I diverted from the main road, leaving behind the usual Friday chaos on Sunset Boulevard as it faded in my rearview mirror. I sigh, a sense of escape washing over me.

After navigating through several neighborhood blocks, I crested a hill, and the sky exploded in a burst of tangerine and gold. Daylight was dwindling, and the ocean was still a distant goal. My foot pressed against the gas pedal, urging my car to devour the remaining miles.

Photography is my ultimate passion, a dream that threaded through every fiber of my being. The beauty of nature, the emotions in weddings, the bonds within families, the elegance of fashion—my camera immortalized them all, one frame at a time. Today's project was sunsets, the intense drive to seize the perfect shot pulsed through me.

On the side, I like to help photograph plates for my best friend Gray, who owns a Michelin restaurant that he is also the head chef at.

An empty street stretched before me, a blank canvas inviting my speed. The distant outline of the shoreline beckoned, a golden oasis as the sun's descent quickened. If I could just push a little harder, I might capture the fading light. With one hand on the wheel, I reached for my camera to prepare to jump out of my car, eager to capture the magic. But as my fingers brushed against the bag, distraction clouded my vision.

"Oh, come on," I muttered, my focus momentarily veering from the road. Reaching down to retrieve the bag, I felt the weight of my mistake. And then, chaos erupted - the screeching of tires, blaring horns, the shattering of glass. My grip tightened on the steering wheel as my car spun uncontrollably. In an instant, the world stopped, leaving only silence.

What felt like minutes had passed as I regained consciousness, the world was a cacophony of grinding metal and urgent voices. Blinking, I struggled to focus on the scene before me. Firefighters, clad in their gear, worked with determination, the jaws of life a formidable tool against the wreckage.

"Don't move, ma'am! We're getting you out!" The words cut through me as I look down at my hands, the gashes a painful reminder of the ordeal.

Time had suddenly shifted, and the brilliant midday sun had transformed into the velvet embrace of night. Streetlights painted an ethereal glow, and flashing red and blue lights cast a hue within my car. The sound of footsteps echoed, mingling with the crunch of shattered glass as responders moved around the scene.

It was my fault, a brief lapse in judgment guiding me to this moment. My eyes shifted to the other car, a flawless Range Rover, now transformed by the collision from elegance into wreckage. The impact had crumpled the front end of the other vehicle, leaving it nearly unrecognizable as it had collided with a light pole.