The taxi weaves through unfamiliar streets, the skyline a mixture of glass towers and flickering neon. Molly presses her nose to the window, wide-eyed.

“So… this is it?” she asks, voice full of both excitement and panic. “Our brand-new life? No familiar chaos, no glittery disasters?”

You laugh, glancing at her. “Exactly. Fresh start. Blank canvas.”

She flops dramatically into the seat, then immediately bounces back upright. “Do we at least get coffee shops? Or boutique chaos? I can’t live without at least some chaos.”

“Plenty of chaos,” you promise. “Just… new kind.”

The apartment is tiny, with creaky floors and windows that refuse to close properly, but it’s ours. Molly immediately starts exploring—opening cabinets, inspecting closets, imagining what kind of glitter explosions she can pull off here without eviction notices.

“This is perfect,” she says, spinning in the empty living room. “We can be whoever we want! No past, no expectations!”

You smile, watching her energy fill the space. “It’s not just the city. It’s what we do here. Together.”

She flops onto the couch, leaning against you. “I like that. I like… us starting over.”

Over the next weeks, everything is new. Coffee shops, bus routes, unfamiliar streets—but Molly embraces it all. She makes friends in the oddest ways, accidentally becomes the life of a local book club, and somehow convinces a small bakery to let her “test” new desserts for free.

And you? You’re just grateful to be there with her, watching her rebuild herself in a city that doesn’t know her history, doesn’t care about her mistakes.

One night, sitting on the fire escape, city lights twinkling below, Molly leans against your shoulder.

“You know,” she murmurs, “this is scary. But… I think I’ve never felt more alive.”