Nick Sinclair(Nicholas David Sinclair)—a name once synonymous with pop rock and soft rock brilliance in the UK and Europe. A decade ago, his meteoric rise to fame made him a household name. Chart-topping singles, sold-out tours, magazine covers, TV appearances—at just 25, he had it all: a thriving career, unimaginable wealth, and a beautiful wife, Sheri, most notably his striking yet clean-cut looks—light skin, blue-grey eyes, brownish-blond hair, a fit body, a height of 5ft 9in and many other attractive sides of him—made many fall in love with him instantly, especially with his soft, slightly deep and melodious voice. By 28, he was a proud father to his first son, Izzy, and at 30, he welcomed his second, Toby. To the outside world, Nick’s life was a dream—an ideal family, a perfect career, and a future brimming with promise.But dreams, no matter how golden, can tarnish over time. Fame is fleeting, and the spotlight’s glare is often unforgiving. Nick’s later albums struggled to match the success of his earlier ones, a reality he faced with resilience. He poured himself into his craft, his guitar riffs as electrifying as ever, his compositions for other artists earning quiet acclaim. Yet, the weight of expectation chipped away at him.

The cracks in his professional life mirrored those in his personal one. At 33, the perfect image of his family shattered. Different goals, clashing values, and Sheri’s tendency to treat him as something less than her equal—partly owing to their five-year age gap—strained their marriage beyond repair. Divorce was inevitable.The hardest blow wasn’t leaving the home they had built together or watching Sheri move on; it was losing the everyday moments with his boys. Izzy, five at the time, and Toby, just three, were too young to understand why their father didn’t live with them anymore. Nick fought to remain a constant presence, co-parenting as best as he could, but the ache of separation never eased.

He moved into a spacious, luxurious house in a peaceful yet warm neighborhood—lonely but befitting a man of his wealth and status. Rumors swirled about his love life, linking him to another female singer,actresses and models, but none of it stuck. Blind dates orchestrated by well-meaning friends ended in awkward silences or polite refusals. For Nick, the thought of love felt foreign, almost burdensome. Instead, he found solace in solitude, though it often came with its own demons. Two years after the divorce and now at the age of 35, loneliness had become both his refuge and his tormentor. Nights stretched long and empty, filled with the quiet clink of whiskey glasses or the haze of substances that dulled his pain. He told himself it was manageable, just temporary. But the weight of his choices lingered, a constant reminder of the man he once was—and the man he feared he might become.

Still, there were glimmers of hope, fragments of decency that refused to be snuffed out. His sons were the brightest light in his life, their laughter grounding him even in the darkest moments. And then there was the orphanage. For years, Nick had supported it quietly, donating without fanfare and attending fundraisers. It wasn’t about redemption or publicity; it was about finding meaning in the chaos, a reminder that even in his fractured world, he could still make a difference.On this particular night, Nick stood in his vast, modern kitchen, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand. The house was silent, its emptiness pressing down on him like a heavy fog. He leaned against the counter, staring at nothing, his thoughts a cacophony of regret, longing, and the faintest spark of hope. Somewhere deep inside, a part of him still believed in healing, in growth, and in the possibility of light breaking through the darkness.

This evening, he found himself at the orphanage again, at one of their annual events. The halls were bright with decorations, the sound of laughter and children’s voices filling the space. Jack kept to the edges of the room, as he often did, a quiet observer rather than a participant. He exchanged polite smiles with the staff and nodded along to conversations, but his mind was elsewhere, weighed down by the same thoughts that haunted him most days. And then, amidst the crowd, he saw her—a young woman with kind eyes and a quiet demeanor, moving through the room with an air of both confidence and gentleness. She seemed to know the children well, crouching down to speak to them at eye level, her laughter soft but infectious. Jack didn’t know why, but he found himself watching her. Something about her presence stirred a curiosity in him, a faint glimmer of something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

—----------------------------------------------------

Chastin Honeydew (chas)was only three years old when her world turned upside down. She didn’t understand why her mother was crying that day, or why they were walking hand in hand down a narrow street, her tiny bag clutched tightly in her other hand. The woman at the gate greeted her mother warmly, but all Chastin could feel was a strange unease—the quiet sense that something was about to change forever.Her mother knelt in front of her, tears streaming down her face as she cupped Chastin’s soft cheeks. “I love you, anak,” she whispered in Tagalog, her voice trembling. “I promise, this is for the best. They will take care of you.”

Chastin didn’t understand the words entirely, but she understood the pain in her mother’s eyes. She clung to her mother’s neck, her small arms squeezing tightly as if letting go would unravel her world. Her mother gently pried her hands away, kissed her forehead one last time, and walked away, her sobs echoing down the street. Left at the gates of the orphanage, Chastin cried out, tears streaming, until she was scooped up by Carol, the orphanage caretaker. Carol welcomed her with warmth and compassion, holding her close as she sobbed for the mother she didn’t understand why she had lost. Carol’s gentle presence became a constant in those confusing days, as she stayed with Chastin whenever the little girl cried herself to sleep or sat in a corner, clutching her small bag. Carol would stroke her hair and whisper, “I know it’s hard, sweetheart. But you’re safe now, and I’ll take care of you.”

Though Carol was not her biological mother, she treated Chastin like her own child, as she did with all the children under her care. Slowly, day by day, Chastin began to trust Carol and the other children in the orphanage. Her tears became less frequent, and she started to find comfort in the laughter and love that filled the house.Still, as the years passed, the questions never left her. Why had her mother left her here? Why didn’t she come back? Chastin’s memories of her parents’ faces blurred with time—her mother’s gentle smile, her father’s sharp jawline. They were more feelings than images, fragments of a life that no longer felt real.

What Chastin didn’t know was the storm her parents had weathered that led to her being at the orphanage. Her parents, a young immigrant couple in London, had dreamed of building a life together despite the odds. Her mother, a 23-year-old Filipina with boundless optimism, had fallen in love with her father, a 25-year-old charismatic yet impulsive Spaniard, while they worked together in a bustling restaurant in the heart of London. She was a waitress with dreams of sending money back home to her family in the Philippines, and he was a talented yet temperamental chef who aspired to one day own his own kitchen.

Their love was electric—fast, passionate, and full of promise. They spent late nights wandering the city after long shifts, sharing stories of their childhoods and whispering dreams of a brighter future. Chastin was born out of their love, before marriage, a surprise that filled her mother with joy but left her father conflicted.Life in a foreign land, however, was far harsher than they’d imagined. The tiny flat they rented in a crowded neighborhood felt suffocating, and their combined wages barely covered the essentials. Her mother often worked double shifts to afford diapers and formula, while her father’s ambition began to wane under the weight of responsibility. The stress of raising a child so young strained their once-vivid connection, and the cracks in their relationship grew deeper with each passing day.

Her father, once the man who dreamed of owning a Michelin-starred restaurant, turned to late nights at the pub to escape the pressure. Her mother, who had given up everything for love, began to feel the sting of betrayal as rumors of gambling debts and infidelity reached her ears. What had once been a hopeful partnership became a battleground of arguments, slammed doors, and regretful silence. The breaking point came one night after a particularly bitter fight. Her father, in a drunken rage, yelled words that could not be unsaid, words that cut her mother’s resolve into pieces.

Three-year-old Chastin was asleep in her cot when the yelling began. Her mother’s voice cracked with desperation as her father’s anger spiraled, fueled by alcohol and frustration. Chastin awoke to the sound of shouts and crashing objects. She didn’t fully understand what was happening, but she felt the fear as her mother scooped her up and locked them in the bathroom, trembling as her father pounded on the door.That night marked the end of their life as a family. The next morning, her mother packed what little they had, took Chastin’s hand, and left. She was only 26, with no family to turn to and no way to shield her daughter from the chaos that had consumed their home. The orphanage was her only hope for Chastin’s safety—a place where she would be cared for, even if it meant they had to part.Clutching Chastin to her chest, her mother made the hardest decision of her life. The next morning, she packed what little they had, left a note on the kitchen counter, and walked out the door, her heart heavy with the weight of knowing she could no longer protect her child on her own.

Now, at 21, Chastin had spent nearly her entire life at the orphanage. She had grown into a kind, intelligent young woman, admired by the staff and adored by the younger children she helped care for. But the ache of abandonment lingered, a quiet wound she carried with her every day. Despite everything, Chastin didn’t let the pain define her. She poured herself into her studies, balancing college with her duties at the orphanage. She wanted to make a difference, to give back to the world that had given her a second chance. Yet, deep down, she yearned for something she’d never truly had—a family of her own, a place where she belonged without question or conditions.

What she couldn’t see was that she had already begun to build that connection.

From her foster mother, Carol,and her foster father Robert who had embraced her as their own, to the friends and siblings she’d found at the orphanage, Chastin had learned what love and resilience looked like. And though she didn’t know it yet, her journey toward finding a family—one she could choose for herself—was just beginning.

Even though Chastin couldn’t recall the warmth of her biological parents’ embrace, the love and care she found at the orphanage filled the gaps in her heart. Carol and Robert, her foster parents, had become the parents she had always longed for. From the moment Chastin was old enough to understand her place in the world, Carol had been there, holding her small hand and reassuring her with a kind smile.“Family isn’t just about blood, sweetheart,” Carol often told Chastin, stroking her curly hair when Emma had questions about why her biological parents had left her. “It’s about love. And we love you more than anything.” Carol was a warm, nurturing woman with a knack for making every child feel special. She was the heart of the orphanage, always bustling around, making sure no one went to bed hungry or upset. Her hugs were the kind that made even the toughest days feel bearable, and her words of encouragement stayed with Chastin through every milestone in her life.

Robert, on the other hand, was the steady rock of the orphanage. He was quieter than Carol, but his love was evident in the way he fixed broken toys, helped with homework, and spent long hours maintaining the orphanage’s aging building. He taught Chastin to ride a bike when she was seven, holding onto the seat as she wobbled down the driveway until she finally found her balance.

To Chastin, Carol and Robert were more than just caretakers. They were her parents in every way that mattered. She looked up to them, admired their strength, and cherished the unconditional love they gave her. Surrounded by her foster siblings, Chastin never felt alone. The orphanage, though modest and sometimes chaotic, was her home—a place filled with laughter, arguments, and shared dreams. The other children, both older and younger, became her brothers and sisters. They bickered over the remote control, teamed up for makeshift soccer games in the yard, and stayed up late on Christmas Eve, whispering about what gifts might be waiting for them in the morning.

Chastin often played the role of the older sister, even to kids her own age. Her humor and kindness made her the go-to person for advice or comfort. She helped braid hair, tutored younger children struggling with their homework, and stayed up late consoling them after nightmares. Though life at the orphanage wasn’t without its challenges, Chastin never felt like she was missing out on having a family. With Carol and Robert as her steadfast parental figures and the other children as her siblings, she felt whole in a way she imagined some children in traditional families didn’t. For Chastin, the orphanage wasn’t just a place where she lived—it was a complete family, bound not by blood but by love and shared experiences.

Chastin grew up as the only exotic-looking child in the orphanage, standing out among the predominantly white children with her caramel-tanned skin, curly black hair, and small almond-shaped eyes that held a quiet warmth. Her appearance often drew curious stares from visitors, but among the children, Chastin was more than just a face in the crowd—she was their favorite sister. From the youngest toddlers to the teenagers her age, everyone adored Chastin. She had a way of making people feel seen, loved, and cared for, whether it was by fixing a child’s scraped knee, helping with homework, or simply making them laugh with her playful sense of humor. Chastin was like the glue that held the orphanage together, her heart big enough to fill the void left by absent parents for so many of the kids, even as she carried her own quiet pain.

Chastin was no stranger to feeling different. At a young age, she was aware of the subtle stares that followed her wherever she went. Her skin was darker, her eyes almond-shaped, and her hair was a wild, curly mass that no one else in the orphanage seemed to have. But what she didn’t fully realize was that, despite her differences, she was loved deeply—especially by her foster parents, Carol and Robert.

One evening, when Chastin was around 6 years old, she found herself sitting on the couch in the family living room, her little legs tucked underneath her. It was a quiet evening, and the soft hum of the television was the only sound. Carol, who had been working on some paperwork in the kitchen, walked over and sat beside her, brushing a stray curl behind Chastin’s ear.

“Hey, sweetie, you okay?” Carol asked, her voice gentle and warm.

Chastin didn’t answer right away. She stared at the TV, but her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about the other kids at school, how they all seemed to have mothers who looked like them—mothers with light skin, like the other children. It made her feel, in a way she couldn’t fully articulate, a little out of place.

“I’m fine,” Chastin replied softly, not wanting to burden her foster mom with her thoughts.

Carol didn’t push. Instead, she just pulled Chastin closer into her arms, hugging her tightly. “You know, honey,” she began, her voice full of love, “there’s no one like you. You’re one of a kind, and we love everything about you—your beautiful skin, your hair, your smile.” She paused and kissed Chastin’s forehead, the softness of her lips leaving Chastin feeling protected. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Tears welled up in Chastin’s eyes as she snuggled into Carol’s arms. It was the first time someone had truly made her feel like her differences weren’t something to be ashamed of but rather something to be celebrated. She felt safe there, enveloped in her foster mother’s affection, knowing she would always have a place in Chastin’s heart.

Robert, ever the stoic but loving father, also had his moments with Chastin. One afternoon, when Chastin was about 8, she had spent hours drawing on the back porch, her small hands cramping from the effort of creating perfect little flowers and animals. The afternoon sun was setting, and the sky was painted in shades of orange and pink. Robert had been working in the garden when he noticed her sitting there, lost in her world of colors.

"Hey there, little artist,” Robert said, walking up behind her. “That’s some pretty work you’re doing there.”

Chastin smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed with pride. “Do you think it’s good, Papa?”

Robert crouched down beside her, his rough hands gently tracing the edge of her drawing. “It’s amazing, kiddo,” he said with a grin. “You’ve got a real talent for this. You know, when I was your age, I couldn’t even draw a straight line. But look at you. You’ve got the whole world in your hands.”

Chastin laughed, feeling the warmth of his praise settle into her chest. For a moment, she was able to forget the outside world and just enjoy being loved by the man who had shown her nothing but kindness since the day she had arrived.

Later that night, Robert tucked her into bed, gently pulling the covers over her and kissing her forehead. “We’re lucky to have you, Chas. Don’t you ever forget that,” he whispered. “You’ve got a family who loves you, and we’re here for you always.”

"Love you, Papa,” Chastin whispered back, her voice barely audible, as sleep began to take over her tired body.

“Love you too, kiddo,” Robert replied softly, his hand lingering for just a moment longer on her cheek before he stepped away.

These simple, yet profound moments with Carol and Robert were Chastin’s anchors—her lifeline. From Carol’s tender reassurances to Robert’s quiet affirmations, Chastin never had to wonder if she was loved. They filled her heart with compassion and warmth, showing her that family wasn’t always about blood, but about the people who chose to love you unconditionally, no matter where you came from.

Marcia,Chastin’s closest older sister. Had always been fascinated by Chastin’s unique beauty. Growing up in the predominantly white community of the orphanage,Chastin’s exotic features made her stand out in the best possible way. Her caramel-toned skin, dark almond-shaped eyes, and wild black curls often drew attention, and Marcia loved to celebrate those features in her own way.

"Chas,” Marcia said one day, grinning as she held up a handful of hair ties and brushes, “let’s try something fun with your hair. You’ve got the most gorgeous curls, and I just know we can make them shine.”

Chastin laughed, already used to her older sister’s experiments. “As long as you don’t tug too hard, I’m in.”

They spent hours in their shared bedroom, Marcia carefully braiding Chastin’s thick curls into intricate patterns or brushing them out until they framed her face like a halo. Sometimes, Marcia would try out new hairstyles she’d seen online, twisting and pinning until Chastin’s hair looked like a work of art.

On weekends, when they weren’t too busy with their part-time jobs or schoolwork, Marcia would pull out her small collection of makeup. It wasn’t much—just a few hand-me-downs and budget buys—but it was enough to let her creativity shine.

"Close your eyes,” Marcia instructed one afternoon, holding a soft brush.

Chastin obeyed, laughing as Marcia dusted her eyelids with warm golden tones that complemented her skin. When Marcia was done, she handed Chastin a small mirror.

"There,” Marcia said, admiring her handiwork. “You look stunning, as always.”

Chastin studied her reflection, marveling at how Marcia managed to enhance her features without making her look overdone. “You should be a makeup artist,” she teased, turning to face her sister. “You’re amazing at this.”

Marcia shrugged, but the pride in her smile was evident. “It’s easy when I’ve got a perfect canvas.”

Their moments together weren’t just about hairstyles and makeup—they were about connection. Marcia’s attention to detail and genuine interest in celebrating Chastin’s beauty made Chastin feel special, loved, and confident.

When it came to dressing up, Marcia was equally invested. Before school dances or important events, Marcia would dig through the shared wardrobe, pulling out dresses and accessories for Chastin to try on.

"This one,” Marcia said one evening, holding up a flowy teal dress. “It’ll look amazing with your skin tone. Trust me.”

Chastin twirled in the dress, giggling as Marcia adjusted the straps and added a necklace for good measure. “You’re like my personal stylist,”Chastin said, spinning in front of the mirror.

"And you’re my muse,” Marcia replied, giving her a playful nudge.

These moments were some of Chastin’s favorites. Marcia’s attention wasn’t just about external beauty—it was her way of showing love, of reminding Chastin that she was unique and worthy of admiration.

Through these experiences, Chastin learned to embrace her appearance and see her exotic features as an asset rather than something that set her apart. And even after Marcia moved on to pursue her own career, Chastin carried those lessons with her, grateful for the sister who had always seen her beauty, inside and out.

However,Chastin sometimes often feels insecure about her looks and sometimes start comparing herself to others,especially Marcia.

Chastin sat cross-legged on the floor of their shared room, staring at the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. She ran her fingers through her dark curls, watching them spring back into place. Her caramel-toned skin glowed under the soft yellow light, but tonight, all she could see was the contrast between herself and Marcia. Marcia, with her fair skin and soft blonde hair, was effortlessly beautiful—the kind of beauty that people noticed right away.

"I’ll never look like you,” Chastin said quietly, almost to herself.

Marcia, who had been folding laundry on the bed, paused and turned to her sister. “What did you say?”

Chastin sighed, her voice trembling. “You’re so light and perfect. Blonde hair, fair skin… like all the girls in magazines. And then there’s me. Dark skin, wild hair, nothing like you or anyone else here.”

Marcia frowned, immediately sitting down beside Emma on the floor. “Chas,” she said softly, brushing her sister’s curls off her face. “Where is this coming from?”

Chastin hesitated, biting her lip. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like I don’t belong. Like I stand out too much, and not in a good way.”

Marcia’s heart ached at her sister’s words. She reached out, taking Chastin’s hands in hers. “Listen to me,” she said firmly, her blue eyes locking onto Chas’s deep brown ones. “You are absolutely beautiful, Chas. Do you hear me? And not just beautiful—you’re unforgettable.”

Chastin glanced at her doubtfully. “You’re just saying that because you’re my sister.”

"No, I’m saying it because it’s true,” Marcia said, her voice full of conviction. “Do you know how many times I’ve wished I had your skin? It’s like gold, Chas. Warm and glowing all the time. I get sunburned in ten minutes, and you? You soak up the sun and look like a goddess.”

Chastin couldn’t help but laugh a little. “A goddess, huh?”

"Yes, a goddess,” Marcia repeated, grinning. “And your curls? Don’t even get me started on how jealous I am of those. You can do so much with your hair—leave it wild, braid it, twist it—and it always looks amazing. My hair just sits there, all flat and boring.”

Chastin shook her head, a small smile creeping onto her face.

Marcia leaned in closer, her voice softening. “But more than that,Chas, your beauty isn’t just about how you look. It’s about who you are. You’ve got this glow about you—like when you laugh, or when you help the little ones with their homework, or when you stand up for what’s right. That’s what makes you truly stunning.”

Chastin blinked, feeling a lump form in her throat. “You really think so?”

"I know so,” Marcia said without hesitation. “And you don’t need to look like me or anyone else to be beautiful. You’re you, and that’s more than enough.”

Marcia wrapped an arm around Chastin’s shoulders, pulling her into a warm hug. “Promise me something?”

“What?” Chastin asked, her voice muffled against Marcia’s shoulder.

“Promise me you’ll stop comparing yourself to anyone, even me,” Marcia said. “You’re not supposed to look like me, Chas. You’re supposed to look like you. And trust me, the world is lucky to have someone as beautiful as you in it.”

Chastin nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “I promise.”

“Good,” Marcia said, brushing a strand of hair from Chastin’s face. “Now, let’s find a new hairstyle for you. Something that shows off those curls and makes you feel as gorgeous as you are.”

As Marcia started pulling out hair clips and brushes, Chasti smiled. In that moment, she felt lighter, her insecurities melting away under her sister’s love and unwavering belief in her.

Even Chastin’s closest younger siblings in orphan house cindy 5 years younger than her and bobby 4 years younger than her, always adores emma's exotic beauty.

19 year old Chastin’s sat cross-legged on the living room floor of the orphan house, braiding Cindy’s long, straight natural platinum blonde hair while Bobby sat beside them, doodling in his sketchbook. The younger siblings had always gravitated toward Chastin, not just because of her nurturing presence, but because, to them, she was someone special.

Cindy is 14, looked up at Chastin with wide, admiring eyes. “Chas, I still don’t get how your hair does that,” she said, reaching up to gently touch one of Chastin’s springy curls.

Chastin chuckled. “Does what, Cindy?”

“It’s so bouncy and shiny,” Cindy said dreamily. “I wish my hair did that. Mine just falls flat no matter what I do.”

“Trust me, there are days when I wish my hair were easier to manage, like yours,” Chastin replied with a smile.

“No way,” Bobby chimed in, glancing up from his sketchbook. At 15, he was already developing an eye for art and was fascinated by details. “Your hair is cool, Chas. It’s like art—every curl has its own shape and story.”

Chastin laughed, shaking her head. “You’re too much, Bobby.”

“I’m serious!” Bobby insisted. “And your skin, too. It’s like…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Like a sunset. You know, all warm and golden and perfect. I’ve been trying to draw it for ages, but it’s hard to get it just right.”

Chastin’s cheeks flushed, caught off guard by his earnestness. “Bobby, you’re making me blush.”

“But it’s true,” Cindy said, her voice soft with sincerity. “You’re so pretty, Chas. Like, way prettier than anyone I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I wish I looked like you.”

Chastin’s heart ached at Cindy’s words, knowing all too well the sting of comparison. She reached out, cupping Cindy’s face in her hands. “Cindy, you’re beautiful just the way you are. Never wish to look like anyone else, okay? You’re perfect as you.”

“But you’re still the prettiest,” Cindy said with a grin, leaning into Chastin’s touch.

“Definitely,” Bobby added, nodding emphatically.

Chastin rolled her eyes playfully, though a warm smile spread across her face. “Alright, alright. But don’t go putting me on a pedestal, okay? Beauty isn’t everything.”

“To us, it’s not just how you look,” Bobby said thoughtfully. “It’s how you are. You’re always so kind and cool. That’s what makes you… well, you.”

Chastin felt her eyes sting with emotion. She hugged them both, her heart swelling with gratitude. “You two are too sweet,” she said. “You better not change when you grow up.”

“We won’t,” Cindy said confidently, leaning into the hug. “Promise.”

Bobby added, “And if anyone ever says anything bad about you, I’ll fight them.”

Chastin laughed, her heart lighter than it had been all day. With siblings like Cindy and Bobby, she felt a little more confident in her own skin and a lot more loved.

There’s a playful moment between Chastin and her older brothers, Peter and Greg, that they adored Chastin’s beauty. Chastin was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through her textbook, when Peter and Greg strolled in, clearly in one of their playful moods. Peter grabbed an apple from the counter, took a bite, and leaned against the fridge, eyeing Chastin with a smirk.

“Hey, Miss Supermodel,” Peter said, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “Shouldn’t you be out gracing some magazine cover instead of studying like the rest of us mere mortals?”

Chastin rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Very funny, Peter. I’m just trying to pass my exams, not walk a runway.”

Greg, who was rummaging through the pantry, turned around with a bag of chips in his hand. “Nah, Pete’s got a point. I mean, look at you. Those curls? That skin? You’re like one of those exotic island princesses or something.”

“Stop it,” Chastin said, her cheeks flushing.

“Seriously,” Peter continued, walking over to her and pretending to strike a dramatic pose. “You’re making the rest of us look bad. Here I am, just your average guy, and my little sister looks like she’s about to star in a Hollywood movie.”

“Yeah,” Greg chimed in, popping a chip into his mouth. “Chas over here stealing all the good genes. What about us, huh? We’ve got to work twice as hard just to get noticed.”

Chastin laughed, shaking her head. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously right,” Peter said, winking at her. “But hey, at least we’re related. I can always say, ‘Yeah, that’s my sister’ when you’re famous.”

“Famous for what? Overstudying?” Chastin shot back, trying to hide how much their teasing warmed her heart.

“Famous for being drop-dead gorgeous, obviously,” Greg said with a grin. “And don’t even try to deny it, Em. We’re just stating facts here.”

Emma threw a pillow from the nearby couch at him, laughing. “You’re both impossible.”

“And proud of it,” Peter said, catching the pillow and tossing it back.

Despite their teasing, Chastin knew her brothers meant every word. Beneath their humor was a genuine admiration for their little sister, and their playful banter never failed to lift her spirits.

The first few years in foster care were the hardest for Chastin. When she was first placed there, at the age of three, she didn’t understand why her mother had left her. The orphanage was large, and the other children were well-adjusted, mostly white, but Chastin always felt an emptiness inside her that she couldn’t fill with anything other than her longing to be with the woman who had held her. Chastin sometimes still met her mother in her early days. Every time her mother came to visit, Chastin would rush to the door, eyes wide with hope. The brief visits, filled with hugs and soft words, would always end too quickly. Her mother’s face, filled with sadness and regret, would fade from her memory as time passed. The visits were infrequent—sometimes every six months, sometimes longer—but they were always brief. Chastin would cling to her mother’s presence, but as she got older, those visits grew fewer and further apart. At times, Chastin would sit in her small room, gazing out the window, wondering why her mother hadn’t come to get her, why she couldn’t live with her.

The loneliness was overwhelming at times. Chastin, with her caramel-colored skin and dark, almond-shaped eyes, always felt different. She didn’t look like the others. It made her feel more isolated, even in the midst of a busy orphanage full of children running around, playing, and laughing. She’d often sit by herself, silently hoping for her mother’s return, asking herself if she had done something wrong. But everything changed the moment Carol and Robert began showing her equal affection and compassion like the other kids there from day one. Carol, the warm-hearted woman who ran the orphanage with a deep sense of compassion, was the first person to show Chastin real affection.

At first, Chastin was hesitant to accept her love. She had been let down too many times, had her heart broken by too many empty promises. But Carol had a way about her—a nurturing presence that made Chastin feel safe, something Chastin had never truly known. Carol would sit with her, talk to her, and comfort her when she felt sad. She never once made Chastin feel like a burden. Instead, she made her feel like she was someone special, someone worth loving.Robert, Carol’s partner, was equally kind and patient. He was the kind of man who would laugh easily, share stories, and always lend a helping hand. His easygoing nature helped Chastin feel at ease. He never pressured her to open up but was always there when she needed him. Slowly, over time, Chastin began to let go of the sadness she had carried for so long, the sadness that came from missing her biological mother. She didn’t forget her mother, but she began to realize that love didn’t just come from blood. It came from the people who showed up for you, who cared for you, and who loved you unconditionally.

As Chastin grew, the orphanage became more than just a shelter—it became her home. The other children, her brothers and sisters in every way that mattered, surrounded her with warmth and acceptance. They celebrated her victories, comforted her in moments of sadness, and shared countless memories that slowly but surely replaced the emptiness she once felt. Whether it was playing games together, sneaking snacks late at night, or simply sitting around laughing, the children at the orphanage became her family. Their unconditional love made Chastin feel like she belonged.

By the time Chastin turned 15, her relationship with her biological mother reached a breaking point. The infrequent visits, always accompanied by promises that were never kept, left Chastin feeling hurt and disillusioned. Each time her mother visited, there was an excuse for why she couldn’t take her back—“You’re too young to understand,” her mother would say. But by then, Chastin was old enough to understand that those excuses meant her mother would never rescue her, no matter how much Chastin begged or waited. One day, after another failed promise, Chastin decided she’d had enough. She told Carol and Robert she no longer wanted to see her mother. She was tired of being disappointed, tired of hoping for something that would never come. Carol and Robert understood her pain and stood by her decision. They never forced her to reconsider, knowing that protecting her heart was more important. When her biological mother came to the orphanage after Chastin’s decision, begging for forgiveness and another chance, Chastin refused to see her. The sadness and disappointment were still there, but Chastin knew she couldn’t let herself be hurt again. With Carol and Robert’s support, she blocked her mother’s access—no calls, no letters, no visits. Carol herself would intercept her mother when she came to the orphanage, firmly but kindly telling her to leave. It wasn’t an easy decision, and Chastin knew it was harsh, but deep down, she felt it was for the best.

As Chastin grew older, Carol and Robert became her parents in every sense of the word. Their affection, patience, and love were a steady foundation that helped Chastin heal from the wounds of her past. They never tried to replace her biological parents, but they gave her something even more powerful—a family that loved her for who she was. Her foster parents provided stability, something Chastin had never experienced before. Carol would help her with her schoolwork, and Robert would teach her about the world, guiding her through the ups and downs of life. They gave her opportunities, they nurtured her dreams, and they made sure that Chastin knew she was never alone.

Chastin could no longer remember the sadness that once filled her heart. The ache of her mother’s absence was replaced by the warmth of the home Carol and Robert created for her. The house was no longer a place of sorrow; it was a place of laughter, care, and belonging. Slowly, over time, Chastin began to see herself not as the abandoned child, but as the beloved daughter of Carol and Robert, the one who was cherished and cared for. By the time Chastin was a teenager, her bond with her foster parents and her newfound siblings had grown so strong that the emptiness she once felt had been replaced by love—a love that wasn’t bound by blood but by the connection and the deep affection that surrounded her every single day. She still remembered her biological mother, but the pain of the early years had lessened, replaced by the certainty that she had found a family who loved her deeply.

And with that love came confidence—confidence to pursue her dreams, to build relationships, and to finally see herself as worthy of love. Chastin’s journey from the lonely, uncertain child who had once searched for her mother to the young woman who stood proud and full of promise was a testament to the power of the compassion and affection that her foster parents and siblings had given her. Though the memories of her mother would always be a part of her, Chastin now had a different kind of family—a family that had chosen her, loved her, and helped her grow into the person she was meant to be.

Despite the challenges of growing up in a place without family, Chastin thrived academically. She had always been curious, her mind sharp and eager to absorb knowledge. From the first time she learned to read, Chastin buried herself in books, losing herself in stories of worlds far beyond the orphanage walls. By the time she reached primary school, her teachers quickly noticed her potential. She consistently earned top marks in every subject, her determination to succeed fueled by her dream of one day leaving the orphanage and making a life for herself. While other children played outside, Chastin could often be found at the library, pouring over textbooks and completing assignments well before their deadlines.

Her efforts paid off. Throughout her school years, Chastin maintained her position at the top of her class, winning small academic awards and certificates that she proudly displayed on the wall above her bed. She became a role model for the younger children, who saw in her a glimpse of what was possible with hard work and resilience.When the time came for university applications, Chastin’s hard work reached its peak. Chastin wasn’t sure what path to take when it came to choosing a major. The invitation letter from UCL(university college London)had arrived unexpectedly, offering her a spot in their prestigious psychology program. At first, she hesitated. Psychology wasn’t something she had ever considered seriously before. But as she researched what the field was truly about, something clicked.She realized how much the study of the human mind resonated with her. Growing up surrounded by people from all walks of life—each carrying their own hidden stories and unspoken wounds—had given her a deep empathy for others. She wanted to understand the intricacies of their struggles, to help them find a way forward, and to make a difference in lives that felt broken. It wasn’t an easy decision, but as Chastin signed the acceptance letter, she felt a spark of certainty. Psychology wasn’t just a major—it was a purpose she hadn’t known she was searching for.

But when that letter arrived, along with a full scholarship for her academic excellence, the entire orphanage celebrated as if it were a shared victory.Even as a college student, Chastin returned to the orphanage regularly. The children still flocked to her whenever she walked through the doors, shouting her name and pulling her into hugs. She volunteered during events, helped with homework, and stayed late into the evening whenever she could spare the time.

Even though Chastin was a bright student with an innate ability to balance her academics and social life, she was no stranger to hard work. At the age of 16, when she was in 10th grade, she and her closest “sister” at the orphanage, Marcia, decided to take up part-time jobs at a local café. Marcia, two years older and in her final year of high school at the time, had been the one to suggest it. “It’ll be good for us,” Marcia had said, her tone both practical and encouraging. “We can save up, buy the little things we need, and help out around here.” Chastin had agreed without hesitation. Though the orphanage was run by kind and dedicated foster parents who ensured every child was cared for, Emma understood the reality of their financial situation. The donations kept the orphanage running, but with so many mouths to feed, every penny was stretched thin. Chastin had always been acutely aware of how much work it took to provide for a home filled with children, and she and Marcia wanted to do their part to ease the burden.

The café job wasn’t glamorous. Chastin started out clearing tables, washing dishes, and learning to operate the coffee machine. She would come in after school and work long shifts on weekends, but she never complained. She found joy in the little things—the warm smell of freshly brewed coffee, the quiet satisfaction of earning her own money, and the camaraderie she shared with Marcia during their shifts.For two years, the sisters worked side by side. Chastin admired Marcia’s determination and the way she always seemed to have a clear vision for her future. Marcia loved working with her hands and creating things, and by the time she turned 18, she had saved enough money to pursue training in design and crafting,because her dreams is to became a fashion designer. Now, at 23, Marcia had a stable job that fit her passion, designing outfits in her friend’s startup well known boutique in the city center. She no longer worked at the café, but she still encouraged Chastin to keep pushing forward with her own dreams.

At 21, Chastin was still splitting her time between her studies at UCL and her part-time job at the café. She had become one of the most reliable employees, trusted by the manager to handle busy shifts and even train new hires. The job wasn’t just about earning money anymore—it was a source of pride and a testament to her resilience. Chastin had learned the value of financial independence early on. She used her earnings to cover personal expenses like books, clothes, and small indulgences, allowing her foster parents to focus their resources on the younger children. Her sense of responsibility extended to the orphanage, where she continued to contribute her time and energy whenever she could. Though her schedule was demanding, Chastin found ways to make it work. She juggled her classes, work shifts, and volunteer duties with remarkable grace, driven by a deep sense of purpose and gratitude for the community that had raised her.

For Chastin, every challenge was an opportunity to grow, every shift at the café a reminder of how far she’d come. And though she often carried the weight of her responsibilities on her shoulders, she never lost her warmth, humor, or the quiet strength that made everyone around her admire her even more.

—----------------------------------------------------

Tonight, Nick found himself at the orphanage again, at one of their annual events. The halls were bright with decorations, the sound of laughter and children’s voices filling the space. Nick kept to the edges of the room, as he often did, a quiet observer rather than a participant. He exchanged polite smiles with the staff and nodded along to conversations, but his mind was elsewhere, weighed down by the same thoughts that haunted him most days.

And then, amidst the crowd, he saw her—a young woman with kind eyes,exotic looking with her caramel skinned,long curly hair that perfectly neated, and wearing her white blouse and blue jeans and a quiet demeanor, moving through the room with an air of both confidence and gentleness. She seemed to know the children well, crouching down to speak to them at eye level, her laughter soft but infectious. Nick didn’t know why, but he found himself watching her. Something about her presence stirred a curiosity in him, a faint glimmer of something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was Chastin, though he didn’t know her name yet. And that was the night their paths crossed for the first time.

The orphanage’s courtyard buzzed with excitement. It was the annual charity event, a day when donors, volunteers, and visitors came together to support the children and celebrate their shared community. Chastin, who had lived there since she was Three, always looked forward to this day—not for the gifts or the donations, but because it reminded her of how much love the orphanage had cultivated over the years. To her, this place wasn’t just a home; it was her family.

She stood near the snack table, helping serve refreshments to the guests while laughing with some of the younger kids. Her curly hair bounced lightly as she turned her head to make sure everything was in order. That’s when she noticed him.

Nick.

He wasn’t dressed like the other donors, who often came in formal suits and polished shoes. He wore a simple black leather jacket over a plain shirt, paired with dark jeans and boots. His relaxed demeanor made him stand out, but what caught Chastin’s attention the most was the warm, almost shy smile he offered as he greeted the children.

Nick had been visiting the orphanage for years, but today, he was struck by the sight of a young woman who seemed to carry a quiet confidence. She wasn’t like the other volunteers bustling around; she had an ease about her, a natural warmth that drew people to her.

For a moment, Nick just watched as she crouched down to fix a little boy’s bowtie, laughing softly when he squirmed in protest. Something about her seemed so genuine, so pure. It wasn’t until the boy ran off that he decided to approach her.

Nick clearing his throat, smiling “Hi there. I hope I’m not interrupting your hard work.”

Chastin looked up, slightly startled but quick to return the smile.

Chastin politely answer”Oh, not at all. Just making sure the kids don’t wreak too much havoc.”

Nick chuckled, extending his hand introducing himself

“I’m Nick Sinclair, just call me Nick. I come by here every so often, but I don’t think we’ve met before.”

Chastin wiped her hand on her apron before shaking his and introduce herself

“I know you.Chastin,you can call me Chas. I’ve been here since I was little. Well, not as a staff member—this is my home. I’m… sort of a permanent resident, I guess.”

Nick’s smile faltered for a moment as he processed her words.

Nick gently ask “I see. But you’re more than that, aren’t you? A volunteer, a big sister to these kids?”

Chas’s cheeks flushed slightly. She wasn’t used to such kind observations. She answered it sofftly

“I just try to help where I can. This place has done so much for me… it’s the least I can do.”

Nick nodded, impressed by her humility.

“And outside of here? What keeps you busy?” He asked her

Chastin hesitated briefly, unsure if he was genuinely interested or just making polite conversation.

“I’m in college. Fifth semester, psychology major.” She answered

Nick’s eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise.

“Psychology, huh? That’s impressive. Trying to understand the human mind sounds like a big challenge.”

Chastin shrugged modestly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“It’s fascinating, really. And… it’s personal for me. I guess growing up here made me want to understand people better, you know?”

Nick leaned against the nearby table, folding his arms as he listened.

“That’s admirable. Most people don’t think that deeply about their reasons for choosing a path.”

Chastin looked up at him, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence. There was something about Nick—his voice, his demeanor—that made her feel like he genuinely cared about what she had to say, even though they had just met.

Before the conversation could go any deeper, a group of kids rushed past, one of them nearly colliding with Nick.

Chas laughed “Looks like the chaos is starting.”

Nick grinning “Seems like it. I should probably get out of your way before I get trampled.”

Chas laughed again, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“You’re always welcome to join the chaos. We could use the help.”

Nick glanced back at the children and then returned his gaze to Chas.

Nick tease “I might just take you up on that. But only if you promise to supervise me.”

Chas shook her head, laughing softly.

“Deal.”

As Nick walked away to mingle with the other guests, he couldn’t help but glance back at her. There was something about Chas—something he couldn’t quite put into words yet—that made him feel lighter.

And for Chas, even though she knew very well that Nick was a musician and a public figure but Chas considered him ordinary and she barely knew Nick, she felt an unusual warmth in her chest now seeing Nick blend into her world. Unbeknownst to her, this brief encounter would mark the beginning of a story that neither of them could have anticipated.

—----------------------------------------------------

Few days earlier before the event on the orphan house. It was the reunion of sisters for Chastin and Marcia It had been a while since Chastin had seen Marcia.

Life had changed so much for both of them–Chastin was now 21, halfway through her fifth semester at college, and since the second semester she moved into her campus dorm. Marcia, on the other hand, had already graduated, her hard work paying off as she launched her career as a fashion designer for a boutique startup. Her life had transitioned into a whirlwind of fabric, sketches, and deadlines, but that didn’t stop her from staying close to Chastin.

When they finally reunited, it was like no time had passed at all. The moment Chas stepped into Marcia’s apartment, she was greeted by the familiar warmth of her sister’s smile, as if they were both still those young girls sharing late-night talks and snacks in the orphanage kitchen.

Marcia’s apartment was a reflection of her journey—a mix of chic elegance and creative chaos, with fabric swatches scattered on one side of the room and carefully curated fashion books on another. A stylish armchair in the corner was surrounded by sketches of Marcia’s latest designs, and the soft hum of a sewing machine echoed from the other room.

“You made it!” Marcia exclaimed as she pulled Chas into a tight hug. Chas laughed, feeling the weight of the embrace—a reminder that despite the years and their different paths, they were still as close as ever.

“I did,” Chas said, her voice filled with affection. “It’s been way too long.”

Marcia stepped back and eyed Chas up and down. “Look at you, all grown up! College life’s treating you well, huh?” she teased with a raised eyebrow, noticing how Chas had blossomed in her time away.

Chas rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile.

“It’s… different. But I’m managing.” She looked around the apartment, impressed by Marcia’s space. “Wow, you’ve done well for yourself. I mean, look at this place! You’re living the dream.”

Marcia grinned, a bit of pride shining in her eyes. “It’s not much yet, but it’s mine. And I’m doing what I love. Fashion design is hard work, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Chas nodded in admiration. “I can’t believe how far you’ve come. You’re living your dream, just like you always said you would.”

Marcia shrugged modestly, but her smile never faltered. “You’ve done amazing things too, Chas. College at UCL? Getting straight A’s and acing everything in psychology? You’ve always been the smart one.”

Chas’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I don’t know about that… but thanks.” She paused, glancing at her sister with a playful grin. “I guess we’ve both come a long way from those late-night snack raids and dance battles, huh?”

Marcia laughed, a soft, familiar sound that filled the room with nostalgia. “Yeah, those were the good old days. But honestly, I’m so proud of you, Chas. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown—how much we’ve both grown.”

Chas smiled, her eyes softening as she met Marcia’s gaze. “It’s because of you. You were always there for me, you know? Even when things felt tough, you never made me feel alone.”

The two sisters shared a moment of quiet understanding, the bond between them stronger than any words could express. Despite their differences, their paths, and the challenges they’d faced growing up, they had always had each other.

“Enough of the sappy stuff,” Marcia said after a beat, breaking the silence with a wink. “Let’s catch up! I’m dying to hear about your college adventures. What’s it like living on your own in the dorms?”

Chas grinned, happy to shift the conversation. “Well, it’s not as glamorous as I thought it would be,” she started, rolling her eyes. “But it’s definitely been an experience.”

Marcia laughed. “I bet. I can only imagine the craziness. But I’m glad you’re thriving. And hey, I’ve been meaning to show you the new collection I’m working on. Want to see?”

Chas’s face lit up with excitement. “Of course! I’d love to see what you’re working on. You know I’m always in awe of your designs.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of laughter, stories, and sisterly bonding. Marcia showed Chas the latest sketches for her boutique, explaining her creative process and the inspirations behind her designs. Chas, ever the thoughtful listener, offered suggestions and support, just as she always had.

When the evening finally drew to a close, Chas realized just how much she’d missed these moments—the sense of familiarity and warmth that only Marcia could offer. Even as they’d both carved out their own lives, they were still the same two sisters who had found comfort in each other’s company late at night, sneaking snacks and sharing dreams.

As Chas prepared to head back to her dorm, she looked at her sister one last time. “I’m really proud of you, Marcia. And I can’t wait to see where life takes you.”

Marcia smiled, a glint of determination in her eyes. “Thanks, Chas. You too. You’ve got this. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

With one final hug, Chas left Marcia’s apartment, her heart full of love and pride for the sister she had always admired. It was clear that no matter where life took them, they would always have each other.

Most of her closest siblings from the orphanage had grown up and moved on, chasing their dreams just like Marcia, who had already graduated and launched a career as a fashion designer for a boutique startup. Their busy lives rarely allowed for visits back to the orphanage, and Chastin couldn’t help but feel the weight of their absence. Late at night, when she found herself back at the orphanage, she would sit quietly in the kitchen, gazing out the window and reminiscing about how things used to be.

The laughter of her siblings echoed in her memory—late-night snack raids, silly games, and heartfelt talks in the dim light of the common room. Life felt simpler then, as if the walls of the orphanage had frozen time. Now, everything was changing. Chastin often caught herself wondering if she was the only one still tethered to the past, still finding solace in the familiar halls of the place she’d once called home.

Sometimes, when she visited the orphanage, she would sit with the younger children, the ones she had grown close to over the years. Watching their bright eyes and boundless energy, she couldn’t help but wish she could turn back time—to a time when she and her siblings were all together, unburdened by the demands of adulthood. It felt as though everyone else had moved on, while she remained at the same restaurant, waiting for something she couldn’t quite name.

Still night at the charity gala in the orphan house, Nick’s curiosity about Chas only grew as the evening went on. After their brief but memorable exchange, he found himself unable to stop glancing in her direction. Her laughter was infectious, her smile radiant, and the way she carried herself—confident yet warm—left a mark on him.

While Chas was busy chatting with the other attendees, Nick approached Carol, her foster mother, who was setting out desserts at a nearby table.

“Carol,” Nick began, trying to sound casual.

The older woman looked up with a welcoming smile. “Nick! Always good to see you here. You’ve been such a loyal supporter of this event over the years.”

He chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I enjoy it every time. You all do such amazing work here.”

Carol noticed his hesitant demeanor and tilted her head. “What’s on your mind, Nick?”

He hesitated for a moment, then glanced in Chas’s direction. “Chastin,” he said simply, his voice soft.

Carol’s knowing smile spread across her face. “Ah,Chas. She’s a special one, isn’t she?”

Nick nodded, his eyes lingering on her. “She is. We talked a little earlier, and… I don’t know, there’s just something about her. She mentioned she study in psychology.”

Carol wiped her hands on a dish towel and folded her arms, studying Nick. “Chastin’s always had a gift for understanding people. She’s been through a lot—more than most know—but it’s shaped her into someone who sees the world differently. She’s a dreamer, but also grounded. Determined. She’s had to fight for everything she’s achieved.”

Nick listened intently, his heart tightening at the thought of Chas’s resilience. “She seems so full of life,” he murmured. “It’s hard to imagine her having to struggle.”

Carol’s expression softened. “She hides it well, but she’s always been a fighter.Her mom dropped her here when she was very young, bounced around the system before ending up here. But instead of letting it break her, she found a way to rise above it. She’s kind to everyone she meets, but she doesn’t let people get too close easily. Trust takes time with her.”

Nick nodded, processing Carol’s words. “She’s incredible,” he admitted, almost to himself.

Carol smiled knowingly. “She is. But Nick, if you’re interested in Chas, just know this—she’s fiercely independent. She’s not looking for someone to save her, but someone who’ll stand beside her and let her be herself.”

Nick met Carol’s gaze, her words settling deep in his heart. “I wouldn’t want to change her. I’d just want to… know her better.”

Carol’s eyes sparkled with approval. “Then take your time, Nick. Chas doesn’t open up quickly, but when she does, she’s worth every ounce of effort.”

Unbeknownst to Chas, as she laughed and mingled that night, Nick had already begun to see her in a light that no one else had before. It was the beginning of something he couldn’t fully explain yet—but he knew, deep down, that Chas had already changed him in ways he didn’t expect.

—----------------------------------------------------

Chas wiped the counter of the small, cozy café where she worked part-time. It was a quiet weekday evening, with only a few regular customers scattered around. She adjusted her apron and glanced at the clock. Just another hour until her shift ended.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling a new customer. Chas looked up, ready to greet them, and froze for a split second when she saw Nick walking in.

He looked different in the dim café lighting—still effortlessly cool in his dark coat and scarf, but his expression was softer, more casual than the polished donor she’d met at the orphanage event.

Nick noticing her and smiling “Chastin, right? Small world.”

Chas blinked, recovering from her surprise.

Chas smiling back “Nick. Yeah, it is. What brings you here?”

Nick shrugging “I was driving by, saw the place, and thought I’d stop in for a coffee. Didn’t know I’d run into the star volunteer from the orphanage.”

Chas laughed lightly, shaking her head as she grabbed a menu.

“I’m just a part-timer here. You want your coffee black, or do you need the menu to make up your mind?”

Nick grinning “Straight to the point, huh? Black coffee, please.”

As Chas prepared his order, Nick found a seat near the counter, watching her work. She moved with an easy grace, chatting with other customers while managing the orders with precision.

When she brought his coffee over, he leaned slightly forward.

“Do you ever take a break?” Nick asked her

Chas answer with teasing “If my boss sees me slacking, I might not have a job tomorrow.”

“Fair enough. But seriously, college and work? When do you sleep?” Nick ask her again

Chas said playfully “Sleep is for people who don’t have bills to pay.”

Nick chuckled, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. “That’s impressive, though. Balancing all of that can’t be easy.”

Chas shrugging “You get used to it. Besides, I’m not the only one who works hard. What about you? Do musicians even sleep?”

Nick smirked.“Touché. We’re notorious night owls, but I like to think I manage. Most of the time.”

Their small talk stretched into a full conversation. Nick shared stories about his music career, and Chas told him about her classes and the quirks of being a psychology student. She found herself laughing more than she expected, surprised at how easily she could talk to him.

Nick leaned on the counter, a familiar, easygoing grin spreading across his face. “So, working at a café, huh? What’s the most outrageous order you’ve had to make?”

Chas chuckled as she adjusted her apron. “Outrageous? Oh, definitely the guy who ordered a triple-shot decaf soy latte with five pumps of hazelnut syrup, heated to exactly 135 degrees. Took me five minutes to write it down, let alone make it.”

Nick laughed. “Sounds like a nightmare. Let me guess—he complained it wasn’t sweet enough?”

“Of course,” Chas replied, rolling her eyes. “But hey, at least I get free coffee out of this job, so it’s not all bad.”

Nick raised his cup, mock-serious. “A noble perk. Cheers to caffeine.”

Chas smiled, pouring milk into a steaming mug for another customer. “What about you? Any wild stories from your music career? I bet musicians have way crazier encounters than baristas.”

Nick leaned back, pretending to think. “Let’s see… There was one time I was performing at this small club, and halfway through the set, someone threw a pair of underwear onstage.”

Chas burst out laughing. “What? Like… actually threw it at you?”

“Yup,” he said, nodding with mock solemnity. “Nearly hit me in the face, too. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or terrified.”

“Oh, you were totally flattered,” she teased, crossing her arms. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” Nick admitted with a chuckle. “But it made for a great story, so I’ll take it.”

Chas shook her head, still smiling. “And I thought dealing with picky customers was bad.”

“What about you?” Nick asked, resting his chin in his hand. “What’s it like being a psychology student? Are you secretly analyzing all your customers?”

Chas laughed. “Everyone assumes that! No, I’m not secretly diagnosing people while I make their coffee. It’s more about learning why people act the way they do—what makes them tick.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “So, what makes me tick?”

She smirked, leaning slightly closer. “Hmm… I’d say you’re the type who hides your emotions with humor. Probably a bit of a perfectionist, but you pretend not to care so no one notices when you mess up.”

Nick blinked, caught off guard. “Wow. Okay, that’s… scarily accurate.”

Chas grinned triumphantly. “Told you, I’m good at this.”

“Remind me never to play poker with you,” Nick said, shaking his head with a laugh.

She shrugged, pouring another cup of coffee. “It’s not all fun and games, though. The classes can get pretty heavy sometimes, especially when we talk about trauma or mental health issues.”

Nick’s expression softened. “That sounds intense. But also really important.”

“It is,” Chas agreed, her tone more serious now. “I just want to understand people better, you know? Maybe help them someday.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. “That’s really cool, Chas. Not a lot of people have that kind of drive.”

Chas felt a faint blush creep up her cheeks. “Thanks. But what about you? You must’ve had some kind of drive to get where you are in music.”

Nick shrugged, a hint of self-deprecation in his smile. “Honestly, I think music just kind of… saved me. I was in a rough place when I started writing songs, and it gave me a way to let it all out. I didn’t think it would turn into a career, but somehow it did.”

“That’s amazing,” Chas said sincerely. “And brave. Putting yourself out there like that can’t be easy.”

Nick smiled, a little more genuinely this time. “It’s not, but it’s worth it when someone tells you your music helped them through something.”

Their conversation paused for a moment as Chas handed a latte to a customer, but when she turned back, Nick was still watching her, his gaze thoughtful.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “any embarrassing moments from college yet? Come on, there’s gotta be something.”

Chas groaned, her laugh bubbling up. “Do you want the short list or the long one? Let’s just say I’m not great at public speaking, and my first presentation ended with me knocking over the professor’s coffee. All over his desk.”

Nick winced sympathetically. “Ouch. Did he yell at you?”

“No, but the look on his face was worse,” she said, laughing despite herself. “I wanted to crawl under the desk and disappear.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” Nick said, leaning closer conspiratorially, “I once forgot the lyrics to one of my own songs. In the middle of a live performance.”

Chas gasped, her eyes wide. “No way. What did you do?”

“Made up the rest,” Nick admitted with a grin. “No one noticed—at least, I hope they didn’t.”

She laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Okay, that does make me feel better.”

Their conversation continued, flowing effortlessly from one topic to the next. Chas was surprised by how easy it was to talk to Nick, how natural it felt to share pieces of herself. And as she listened to his stories, laughing at his self-deprecating humor and catching glimpses of the vulnerability beneath, she found herself wondering when the café had last felt this warm.

As the clock neared the end of her shift,Chas started cleaning up while Nick remained at his seat, sipping his coffee and glancing at his phone occasionally.

When the café emptied out, Chas approached him, untying her apron. “Thanks for keeping me company tonight. I think you’ve officially met your coffee quota for the day.”

Nick grinning“It was worth it. But you’re done now, right?”

“Yeah, just about.” Said Chas

Nick stood, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Good. Let me drive you home.” Said Nick so suddenly

Chas blinked, caught off guard.“Oh, no, you don’t have to. It’s not far, and I’m used to walking alone.”

Nick firmly say“It’s late, Chas. I insist.”

Chas finished cleaning up the café, her apron slung over her shoulder as she turned the lights off. Nick stood by the door, casually leaning against the frame, waiting.

Chas smiling to him “You really didn’t have to wait, you know. I could’ve just taken the bus.”

“And let you walk to the station alone this late? Not a chance. My car’s right outside.” Nick said

Chas answer hesitantly “It’s sweet, Nick, but I can manage. You’ve already had coffee and stayed late to talk—”

Nick cutting her off “Chas, just let me drive you. Humor me, okay?”

Chas sighed, seeing the determination in his eyes.

Chas relenting “Fine. But only because I’m too tired to argue.”

Nick grinned, stepping aside to let her out before leading her to his car. The ride started in comfortable silence, the soft hum of the engine filling the air.

Nick breaking the silence “So, why the part-time job? You don’t strike me as someone who just likes to keep busy.”

Chas glanced at him, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her bag. “It’s not just for fun, that’s for sure. My foster parents have been paying my tuition since I started college, and I feel bad. They’ve already done so much for me—raising me, sending me to school, everything. I want to help where I can, at least with dorm taxes and other expenses.”

Nick nodded, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “That’s admirable, but it sounds like a lot to juggle. College alone can be overwhelming.”

Chas shrugging“It is, but it’s worth it. They’ve done so much for me. This is the least I can do.”

Nick didn’t reply immediately, his gaze focused on the road ahead. “You know, you don’t have to do it all by yourself. There’s no shame in accepting help.”

Chas answer him softly“I know. But I just… feel like I owe them.

Nick glanced over at her for a moment, the sincerity in her voice making him pause. He could tell there was more behind her words, something deeper than just a sense of responsibility. It was the weight of gratitude and perhaps a little pride. He wasn’t sure, but he understood that feeling.

Nick answer her carefully“I get it. But you don’t have to carry everything on your own. You deserve to have support too, Chas. Don’t forget that.”

Chas looked out the window, her thoughts momentarily drifting. She wasn’t used to hearing that from someone, and certainly not from someone like Nick. She knew what he meant, but part of her still struggled with the idea of leaning on others.

Chas answer quietly “It’s just… hard to ask. I’ve always been independent, you know? I don’t want to be a burden.”

Nick answer her softly “I get it. But it doesn’t make you weak. We all need help sometimes. And it’s okay to let people in.”

They drove in silence for a few moments, Chas mulling over his words. The car hummed steadily as Nick maneuvered through the streets. His offer of support lingered in her mind, the comfort of it almost foreign but not unwelcome.

As they approached her building, the familiar sight of her dorm complex came into view. Chas felt a little hesitant, not wanting this unexpected evening to end just yet.

“Thanks, Nick,” she said with a faint smile, her hands resting on her lap. “I guess I’m not used to people being so considerate.”

Nick smiled back, his gaze softening. “I think you’re more used to doing for others than receiving. You’re not alone in that, though. Trust me.”

He pulled into a parking spot near her entrance and turned off the engine. Chas glanced out the window at the quiet building, lit with the faint glow of dorm room windows. She turned toward him, her eyes meeting his once again. There was something calming about the way he spoke, the way he cared without judgment.

“Well, I really appreciate the ride… and the company,” she said sincerely.

Nick leaned slightly against the steering wheel, his expression warm. “Anytime, Chas. Seriously.”

A beat of silence passed between them, the air filled with unspoken words. Nick gave her a small smile, one that felt like an invitation for something more, something beyond the casual nature of their earlier interactions.

Chas hesitated for a moment, her hand resting on the door handle, unsure if she was ready to leave the comfort of his presence just yet.

“So,” she teased, her voice lightening the mood, “should I expect more late-night coffee runs, or was this a one-time thing?”

Nick raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll make it a weekly habit.”

Chas laughed lightly, the sound lifting the weight off her shoulders. “I’ll hold you to that, then.”

She opened the door, stepping out of the car, but as she began to close it, Nick’s voice stopped her.

“Wait,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out on his side.

Chas turned back, her hand pausing on the door. “What are you doing?”

Nick rounded the car and stood beside her, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Walking you to your door. It’s late, and I’m not about to let you go up alone.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Nick, I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t done this a million times.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “But tonight, you’re not doing it alone. Humor me.”

Chas stared at him for a moment, her lips twitching into a smile despite herself. “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

He smirked, gesturing toward the entrance. “You’ll get used to it. Lead the way.”

She sighed playfully but felt a warmth spread through her chest as she started toward the building. Nick walked beside her, his tall frame a comforting presence in the quiet night.

“So,” he said after a few steps, “what’s the verdict on my late-night chauffeur skills? Passable?”

Chas glanced at him, a laugh escaping her. “Passable? I’d say you’ve set a pretty high bar. Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

“Too late,” Nick replied with a grin. “I’m already planning my acceptance speech for the Best Late-Night Driver award.”

They reached the entrance to the dorm, and Chas took the key out of her pocket. As she unlocked the dorm room.“Well,” she said, turning back to face him, “this is me.”

“Thanks again, Nick. You really didn’t have to walk me up, but I appreciate it.” Chas thanking him again

Nick gave her a nod, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. He couldn’t help but glance past her shoulder into the small, dimly lit space beyond. It was modest—barely enough room for a single bed, a desk piled with books, and a tiny kitchenette tucked into the corner.

He frowned slightly, though he quickly masked it before she could notice. The thought of Chas living here, working so hard every day and juggling everything on her own, stirred something in him.

“This is where you stay?” He asked quietly

Chas hesitated, her hand still on the door handle.

She nodded, her expression casual. “Yeah. It’s not much, but it does the job. Dorm life, you know?”

Nick stood there for a moment, silent, his eyes scanning the space again. He leaned slightly against the doorframe, his thoughts running faster than he could sort through them.

Nick answer thoughtfully “You do all that you do, and this is where you come back to? After everything?”

Chas confused, but smiling “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve got a roof over my head, and it’s close to campus. I’m used to it.”

Nick’s jaw tightened, but he forced a small smile, not wanting to come off as patronizing. It wasn’t the size of the space that bothered him—it was the idea of her working herself to exhaustion just to keep up with everything, all while living in a place that didn’t seem to reflect her efforts.

Nick say to her softly “You deserve better,Chas.”

Chas blinked, caught off guard by the weight in his voice. She tilted her head slightly, studying him.

She answer gently “Nick, it’s fine. Really. I’ve been through worse. This? This is a step up.”

His gaze softened as he met her eyes. She wasn’t complaining—if anything, she sounded proud of how far she’d come. But Nick couldn't shake the feeling that someone like Chas shouldn’t have to settle for “just fine.”

“Still, it doesn’t feel fair. Someone who gives as much as you do should have more. A little more comfort, at least.”Nick said

Chas laughing lightly“Life isn’t always fair, Nick. But it’s okay. I’m okay.”

Nick nodded, though the unease in his chest remained. He straightened up, stepping back slightly. “If you ever need anything, Chas…anything at all, just say the word, okay?”

Chas’s smile softened, and for a moment, she felt a warmth spread through her chest. He wasn’t just being polite—there was genuine care in his words.“Thanks, Nick.That means a lot.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the quiet of the hallway wrapping around them. Chas shifted slightly, unsure how to end the night.“Well, I should probably get some sleep. You should too—musician hours or not."

Nick chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Fair enough. Goodnight, Chas.”

“Goodnight, Nick.”As she stepped inside and closed the door, Nick lingered for a moment, staring at the closed door in thought. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about Chas—the way she carried herself, her determination, her humility—made him feel like he wanted to do more for her.

Shaking his head, he turned and made his way down the stairs, but the image of her small dorm and her quiet resilience stayed with him all the way home.