My Sunshine

Prologue

I never imagined leaving New York. Not for a second. I had my life there—my favorite corner in the café, the street musicians that played my songs, the buzz of the city that never let me feel alone even when I was. New York wasn’t just a place. It was a part of me, and I had no intention of leaving it behind. But here I am, standing in the middle of a dusty street in Florida, trying to convince myself this could feel like home.

Florida.

It’s nothing like the concrete jungle I’ve known. No crowded sidewalks, no skyscrapers stretching into the sky, no subway trains rumbling beneath my feet. Instead, there are palm trees and quiet streets that seem to whisper secrets I don’t care to hear. The heat presses against my skin like a reminder that I didn’t choose this life, didn’t want this change.

I told my parents, over and over, that I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to move to some small town where everything felt like a slow, sun-soaked movie, one I wasn’t sure I was cast in. But no one listened. Not my mom, who was tired of the fast pace of New York, and definitely not my dad, who’d always wanted a simpler life.

So here I am, standing in front of a small house, the paint already peeling from the sun, and I can’t help but feel like a stranger to this place. This is not my home.

I glance at my mom, her smile as wide as the horizon, and my dad, already excited about the new start. They’re thrilled to be here, but me? I’m stuck somewhere between the life I left behind and the one I never wanted.

“Saera, you’ll love it here,” my mom says, her voice full of that hope she always carries. I force a smile, nodding, but it feels like the words are strangers on my tongue.

I take one more look at the empty street, the wide blue sky, and the sound of distant waves. Maybe one day, I’ll find my place here. But right now, all I can think about is how far away New York feels. And how much I already miss it.