Day two started with the same ache in her spine. Selena shifted in the front seat of her car, wincing as the early morning light broke through the windshield and spilled across her face. She blinked up at the ceiling, her breath fogging the glass as she slowly sat upright. Her neck was stiff from sleeping crooked, and one leg had gone numb beneath her. Again.
She groaned softly.
This couldn't keep being her routine.
With a sigh, she grabbed her canvas tote bag from the passenger seat, stuffed with yesterday's clothes and a towel she hadn't used yet. Her first stop, like the day before, was the nearby grocery store, the same one with the sleepy-eyed cashier who barely acknowledged her presence and the restroom that smelled like bleach and hand soap.
She slipped in unnoticed, used the toilet, and then splashed cold water on her face until the remnants of sleep and shame ebbed away.
Today, she added a light layer of foundation, mascara, and a fresh coat of lip balm. She changed into clean jeans and a soft green shirt that made her skin look a little less pale. She tied her hair back, pinned a few loose strands, and stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment.
She still didn't quite recognize this version of herself, but she was beginning to like her. Even if just a little.
The bells above the laundry's door jingled when she stepped in at 6:58 a.m.
Sam was already there, refilling the detergent shelves and humming quietly to himself. He looked up with a short nod and a crooked half-smile.
"Morning."
"Morning," Selena replied, setting her bag behind the counter. "You beat me today."
"Only by ten minutes. You're basically a local now."
She smiled at that. There was something easy about their rhythm already. They moved around each other with a kind of silent understanding—starting machines, folding towels, checking the delivery board. Sam gave her space but always checked in. He showed her a new stain-removal trick and even let her handle some customers solo while he took a call in the back.
By mid-morning, the shop had settled into a comfortable lull. A load of sheets was tumbling in the dryers. A basket of clean laundry sat ready to be folded. Outside, traffic picked up as the city woke around them.
That was when Jennette arrived.
She stepped in wearing a cherry-red hoodie, leggings, and sneakers, her hair tucked under a cap that said "Boss Lady." She carried two iced coffees and a brown paper bag.
"Hey, team," she called brightly. "Brought sugar and caffeine."
Selena perked up as Jennette handed her a drink and set the bag on the counter.
"Egg sandwiches," Jennette added. "From that corner of the street."
Selena grinned, touched by the gesture. "You didn't have to."
"Sure I did. It's your second day. That's basically a holiday."
Sam laughed from the back room. "You say that every time you want to eat breakfast out."
Jennette rolled her eyes, then turned to Selena more seriously. "How's it going? You settling in okay?"
Selena nodded, brushing a loose hair behind her ear. "Yeah. It's… surprisingly nice. The folding is kind of meditative. And Sam's a good teacher."
"High praise," Jennette said, smirking toward her husband. "He trained me once. Took weeks."
"I still have PTSD," Sam called.
Jennette chuckled, then leaned on the counter, stirring her coffee with a straw. "Did you manage to find an apartment last night?"
Selena hesitated. She looked down at her coffee cup and shook her head.
"No," she admitted. "I drove around for a bit. Most of the places I found online were either too expensive or already taken. I figured I'd try again after work."
There was a pause. Not uncomfortable, but weighted. Jennette glanced at Sam. He met her eyes, and there was a silent exchange between them—one that came from years of knowing what the other was thinking before a single word was spoken.
Then Jennette turned back to Selena.
"Look," she said carefully. "I don't mean to pry, but Sam told me you've been sleeping in your car."
Selena froze, her stomach tightening.
"I'm not judging," Jennette added quickly. "We've both been through worse. But… that's not okay. You're working hard. You're showing up. And you deserve a damn place to lay your head that isn't a steering wheel."
Selena let out a small breath. "I'm okay, really. It's just temporary."
"Temporary turns into weeks, and then your body starts falling apart," Jennette said gently. "Trust me."
Jennette reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a key ring.
"We've got a spare room in our place," she said, offering the keys. "It's small. Not fancy. But it has a bed, and a closet, and a door that locks. You'd have your own space. And we can figure out rent—say, $200 a month?"
Selena blinked. "Wait… what?"
"We're not giving it for free," Jennette added. "Not a charity. Just a chance. And $200 barely covers utilities, but we'd rather help someone who's actually trying than let it sit empty."
Sam stepped out from the back, wiping his hands on a towel.
"It's the room we used to use as an office," he said. "We boxed everything up last month. It's just been sitting there since."
Selena stared between the two of them. Gratitude tightened her throat, but so did shame.
"I don't know if I can accept that," she said quietly. "You've already done so much for me. You gave me this job. A reason to get out of bed. I don't want to… take advantage."
Jennette smiled softly. "You're not. Look, Sel—can I call you Sel?"
She nodded.
"Sel, this world's hard enough. People don't reach out enough. And we know what it's like to start over with nothing. When I first met Sam, I had two garbage bags and a dream. You're not asking for help. We're offering it."
There was a long silence.
Selena looked down at her hands. Her fingers were clean now, the nails filed and polished, not chipped and tired like before. She remembered the cold nights in her car, the way she'd crouched at a grocery store sink just to feel human again. How small she'd made herself, just to survive.
And now… someone was offering her a roof. A room. A chance to sleep with a blanket instead of a jacket.
Finally, she looked up.
"Okay," she said, voice thick with quiet emotion. "I'll take it."
Jennette smiled. Sam just nodded with quiet approval.
"But I'm paying rent," Selena added. "And helping with groceries. And whatever else."
"Deal," Jennette said. "As long as you don't mind my terrible lasagna and Sam's obsession with crime documentaries."
Selena laughed softly. "I think I can handle that."
That night, after their shifts were over and the shop was closed, Selena followed Sam and Jennette in her car to their apartment—a modest two-bedroom walk-up on the third floor of an older building that smelled faintly of floor wax and curry.
The spare room was small, but it had a real bed with soft linens, a dresser, and a little window that looked out over a row of fire escapes and brick walls.
She set her bag down in the corner and sat on the edge of the mattress.
The silence was different here.
It wasn't empty. It was peaceful.
She lay back, staring at the ceiling, and for the first time in weeks, her eyes filled with tears that had nothing to do with fear. They were the kind that came when something deep inside began to believe it might all be okay.
Eventually.