Unknown Shades

Chapter-1

When people think about New York, they picture jobs, opportunities, dreams-you know, the usual stuff.

But you know what? It's mostly a city full of people who couldn't care less about anyone but themselves. They don't give a damn about anything. And yes, even if you pickpocket them right in the middle of the day, they wouldn't notice a thing.

I'm Anastasia, a girl making her way in this big ass city by lifting wallets.

Today, I'm standing in front of a coffee shop, scanning the crowd for my next target. The trick is to spot someone who looks like they've got a decent amount of cash.

They usually fit a certain mold: a tailored suit, expensive shoes, a suitcase in hand, maybe a watch that costs more than I'll make in a year, and of course, those overpriced sunglasses perched on their nose. But the dead giveaway? That smug, blank expression like they own the world.

The only thing I have to do is look hot. Dress right, look sexy, and no one questions a thing.

And then I see him. A guy who ticks all the boxes. He's walking at a distance, but I can already tell he's hot. Brunette hair, a bit of a beard, and that rugged look that says he's in his mid-30s.
I know exactly what to do.

Crash. Flash. Dash.
That's my routine.

I "accidentally" bump into him, just enough to knock him off balance for a second. Then comes the flash a quick, innocent smile to make it look like I didn't mean to. By the time he's processed what just happened, I'm already gone, his wallet tucked safely in my pocket.

Let's be honest most of the time, they're more focused on my cleavage than my smile.

Once I've slipped far enough away, I duck into an alley to check the wallet. The leather feels expensive, and smooth, like the kind you know costs more than a month's rent. I flip it open, hoping for something good.

After flipping it open, a neat stack of bills stared back at me. Cash-clean, untraceable, safe. I grab them and count, fingers working fast. Enough to survive for the week, maybe even stretch it out longer.

Then I spot the debit and credit cards, glinting like temptation. But I'm not that stupid. Using them would get me caught in a heartbeat. I've seen it happen to others, and I'm not about to make that mistake. I toss the cards back in, along with the ID. I don't care who he is I just need the cash.

I toss the wallet into a nearby dumpster. It's no good to me anymore.

Smooth as butter like always.

Well, almost always. There was that one time I nearly got caught pickpocketing a woman. She was a total fashionista, her designer bag held tightly to her like it was the most precious thing in the world. When I made my move, she spun around and shot me a look that could freeze fire. The lesson that I learned is never to pickpocket a woman who loves her bag more than anything else.

After hitting the jackpot, a wave of relief washed over me. Finally, I didn't have to stress about rent this month. The streets of New York buzzed with life as I headed home.

I climbed the familiar stairs to our tiny apartment, the creaks underfoot reminding me of the memories we'd made since our aunt left us. My brother was just four years younger, and I often felt responsible for him. But today, I felt a little lighter.

I fumbled for my key and opened the door, greeted by the comforting scent of home. The apartment was small, but it was ours. I could already imagine my brother in the kitchen, probably trying to whip up something.

"Hey Sebastian, I'm home!" I called out, excitement bubbling inside me. This place might be cramped, but it held all our love and struggles, and that was enough for now.
The savory scent of whatever he was cooking wafted through the air, guiding me to the kitchen.

"Hey, Anne! I'm home!" he replied, glancing up from the stove. His face lit up with a smile, but I could still see the tension around his eyes.

I couldn't help but share my excitement. "You won't believe what happened today! I hit the jackpot!"

His eyes widened in surprise, and he turned the heat down on the stove. "No way! That's amazing! How much?"

"Enough to cover this month's rent and a little extra for us!" I said, feeling lighter already.

"That's incredible!" he exclaimed, but then his expression shifted. "But I hate that you have to work so hard, Anne. I feel bad that you're doing all this for me."

I leaned against the counter, the joy of the moment fading a bit as I looked at him. "Seb, don't feel that way. I'm doing this because I care about you. You're my little brother, and I'll always have your back."

He looked down, stirring the pot as if it held the answers to his guilt. "But it's not fair to you. You've been working so much, and it's just for my health... my treatment."

"Seb," I said, my voice softening. "I know it's tough. You have Hodgkin's, and we're both doing our best to manage it. You working at the coffee shop and me at the club it's a team effort. We're in this together."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. "But I feel like a burden. You're doing all this for me, and I just want to be normal. I should be the one helping you, not the other way around."

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're not a burden. You're my brother, and that means everything to me. It's okay to rely on each other sometimes. We're family. I want to help you get better, and we'll figure it out together."

Seb looked up at me, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes. "I just wish I could do more. I want to pull my weight, you know?"

"I know you do," I said, squeezing his shoulder gently. "But right now, your focus should be on getting better. You're doing everything you can, and that's enough for me. Plus, you make the best pasta in the city how could I not keep you around?"

He chuckled softly, a hint of relief washing over him. "Okay, okay. But I still feel guilty sometimes."

"That's normal," I reassured him. "Just don't let it eat you up. Remember, we're a team, Seb. We've got this."

He nodded, a small smile breaking through the weight of his guilt. "Thanks, Anne. I appreciate everything you do."

"Now, let's eat before this masterpiece of yours burns!" I grinned, playfully nudging him aside as we made our way to the table.

As we sat down together, the small table felt like a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside. It may not have been much, but it was ours and we were in it together.

We sat down at the table, and for a moment, everything felt okay. It wasn't much, but this was our space. Just me, Seb, and a decent dinner-sometimes, that was all we needed to get through.

Dinner was a quiet affair, but it was exactly what we both needed. Seb's pasta was as perfect as ever, a small comfort amid everything else. We didn't talk much after that, just the occasional comment here and there, the silence between us speaking louder than words. After we finished, I stood up to clear the table while Seb packed up the leftovers.

"Guess it's time for me to head out," I said, pulling on my worn jacket. "The club won't run itself."

Seb glanced over at me, his smile soft but full of understanding. "Take it easy tonight, An. I'll see you when you get back."

"You know it," I replied, giving him a quick, tight hug. "Don't wait up".

With that, I stepped out leaving the warmth of the apartment behind as I headed into the club.

Let me inform you all that after I get like 100 reads, I will publish another chapter.

Finally, I did it.
It was fun to write the pickpocketing part. Hope you guys will like the story.💗

Let me know your thoughts and opinions.❗

✨Love you all✨