♡ M I L A ♡
As the sun rises, the sky paints a breathtaking display of oranges and pinks, and the city below slowly stirs to life, with the hum of morning traffic and the chatter of early risers signaling the start of a new day. The light spills into our snug two-bedroom apartment in the Aspire Towers, a lofty structure that stands ten stories high, offering a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. Luckily, the rent is cheaper here, which is why we chose this location. It casts a warm, golden glow on the stainless steel kitchen countertop and over the chaos of scattered papers on the central island, lending an air of coziness to our modest yet perfectly proportioned urban haven.
Perched on the island, my fingers drumming a silent melody against the ceramic edge of my mug, contemplating the day ahead. Suddenly, the tranquility is shattered by the piercing cry of Jennie's alarm, followed by a symphony of thuds and muffled curses. Moments later, the cranky brunette stumbles into the kitchen, her hair a wild tangle of rebellion against the new day.
"Ugh... Alarms are the worst! I mean, seriously, whoever invented alarms needs to be dragged out into the street and forced to listen to their own creation for eternity," she grumbles, rubbing her eyes with the back of her palms.
I can't help but chuckle, pouring her a cup of coffee with a practiced hand.
Jennie has never been a morning person and always needs at least two cups of coffee to wake up fully. It's funny how some things never change, isn't it?
"Nothing a piping hot cup of tea—or coffee, in your case—can't fix," I muse, sliding it across the counter.
Jennie flops down at the kitchen table, her glare softening as the aroma of coffee fills the room. It, mingling with the scent of ink and paper, seems to have become a part of our apartment's very essence. "I swear, Mils, if it weren't for caffeine..." She wraps her hands around the cup, the steam kissing her face as she inhales deeply.
"Some things really never change, huh? Freshman year seems like yesterday."
She rolls her eyes at me, then takes a tentative sip, the liquid courage slowly seeping into her veins, chasing away the remnants of sleep. "Ah, that's the stuff," she sighs, a smile finally playing on her lips. "So, you start your new job today?" she prods gently, leaning back against the counter.
I return the gesture with a bright, reassuring grin. That's right. This very day unfolds a new chapter for me, one that's quite different, a far cry from the authorial dreams I harbored as an English Lit major. I laugh, shaking my head, then I say, "And you? Ready to rub elbows with the city's finest journalists in two days?"
Her eyes light up, a stark contrast to the grumpy figure from moments ago, and her lips curve into a smirk. "Yeah, can you believe it, though? Jennie McConnell, the girl who could barely get through a morning class without a coffee IV, is about to start at the Times." Her excitement is infectious, and I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "And Mila Young, the former novelist, to step into a corporate battlefield," I add with a wry smile.
"Life's full of surprises. It'll be a colorful chaos."
We share a knowing look, then laugh, the kind that's comfortable and familiar.
It indeed will be.
We establish our morning routine, and by 7:56 am, I'm showered and dressed and have just finished applying my makeup, which is very subtle and natural. I turn towards the mirror, taking a final glance at my reflection. The stunning pink puff sleeve pintuck shirt I'm wearing is tucked in perfectly, complementing the white high-rise wide-leg trousers that hug my curves in all the right places. To complete the look, I put on a pair of white pearls hanging drop earrings and tie my hair in a neat French braid before I walk over to my small altar, adorned with fresh flowers and an idol of Lord Krishna, and offer my morning prayers and seeking blessings for a fruitful day ahead.
