BOUND TO HER WILL

Chapter One

Layla should've known better than to volunteer for a late shift at the call center on a day when the forecast promised the kind of downpour that made you question every fashion decision-especially her choice of crisp white pants. Stepping out into the storm, she tugged her threadbare umbrella closed against her face. It was barely holding against the wind, and she grimaced inwardly. Of course, nothing ever went as planned.

On nights like these, when torrents turned sidewalks into rivers, Layla's mind wandered. Not to romantic notions or sweeping gestures, but to a secret she shared with her closest friends-a guilty, half-joking belief in manifestation. "I manifest a good hair day, manifest a great latte," she'd laugh over text messages at midnight. It was just a silly game among them, a whispered dare to see if speaking desires aloud could nudge fate a little. Yet even as she scoffed at the notion, a tiny, mischievous part of her clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, the universe might answer.

Deep in thought, she left the call center with nothing but the sting of cold rain and the frustrated hum of traffic in her ears. She clutched her phone a little tighter as she made her way down the slick sidewalk. A burst of lightning cut the sky, and in its wake, thunder rumbled-a low grumble that felt like it was echoing her inner turmoil. Layla pulled her hood tighter around her head and sighed. All she wanted was to get home, change out of the wet clothes, and curl up with a warm shower and one of those ridiculous new books on manifestation that she'd seen online, which she was sure were written with a wink and a nod.

Then, as if fate found its cue, a sleek black luxury car roared past her. Before she could even register what was happening, a tidal wave of dirty rainwater exploded from a large puddle on the road. It drenched her white pants, splattering mud and rain in a messy arc. For a moment, time seemed to slow as she jumped back in shock.

"Are you kidding me?" Layla gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. Not that the car paused to apologize or glance back-technology and arrogance in motion, it was a fleeting, irresponsible moment made real on a rainy night.

Internally, her mind raced. Great, just great. Of all the days to have a manifestation joke with her friends-"I manifest a handsome stranger to rescue me from this pathetic rain"-this had to be it. Maybe it was one of those universe throwbacks to all her half-serious wishes.

Her thoughts barely had time to settle when the car screeched to a halt a few paces away. Layla's heart skipped a beat. Anger and curiosity warred inside her. She fumed at the inconvenience, but a small, secret thrill stirred up as she recalled one of those late-night texts with her best friends: "I hope manifestation really works." How silly, she thought, but a tiny smile tugged at her lips despite the rain.

The driver's door swung open, and before she could retreat further, a man stepped out. He was impossibly tall, the kind of tall that made her want to check her own reflection just to be sure of her height. His suit was sharp, tailored to perfection, and even in the chaotic rain, he looked as if he'd stepped right off the cover of a glossy magazine. His dark hair was slicked back, and his eyes-so unexpectedly intense-seemed to immediately focus on her.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice deep and smooth, carrying a curious firmness that stopped her in her tracks. He didn't so much apologize as assert that he intended to fix the wrong he'd just committed.

Layla's inner voice screamed, Keep moving. Run home. But the storm and the situation kept her anchored. "I don't need-" she started, but he interrupted gently.

"You do," he said, stepping closer. His eyes locked onto hers with a steadiness that unnerved her. "Let me help."

Inside, Layla's thoughts spun wildly. This was surreal. Was it coincidence, or was there something more? You manifest a handsome stranger and then get rescued by him? she mused, half in disbelief and half in the thrill of it all. Despite her better judgment-and the memory of the playful manifestation challenges with her friends-a shiver of excitement ran through her.

She took an involuntary step back, glancing down at the ruined fabric of her pants. "I'm fine," she managed, her voice a tight blend of irritation and curiosity.

But he was not done. Reaching into the inside pocket of his impeccably cut jacket, he pulled out a small gold foil card. He extended it toward her with surprising gentleness. The card read "Luca Moretti" in bold, elegant lettering. As their fingers brushed briefly, a spark of warmth spread through her, dispelling the chill from the rain ever so slightly.

"I'm Luca," he said quietly. And in that single word, something shifted in the air-a promise, or maybe just an undeniable claim. "I'll see you again, Layla." Somehow, his gaze made it seem that her name was no accident at all.

Layla stood, stunned, in the middle of the rain, a cocktail of emotions stirring in her. Shock battled with an odd sense of destiny. Did I really just manifest this? she wondered, recalling the silly late-night banter about manifesting a handsome stranger, never really believing it until now. She couldn't shake the feeling that her whispered wishes, shared only in jest with her friends over several nights, had somehow taken on a life of their own.

Later, as she walked briskly toward the shelter of a bus stop, Layla's mind churned over every detail. Every splash of rain felt oddly symbolic now, every distant rumble of thunder a reminder of the power of chance-or was it fate? She questioned everything. Was it mere coincidence that Luca appeared so suddenly, impeccably dressed and with a name that resonated with mystery? Or was it something more-the universe playing its little tricks?

Her internal monologue grew louder. I manifest a good day, I manifest a handsome stranger, I manifest...what? The absurdity made her smile despite herself. Yet beneath the amusement was a seed of wonder. Maybe the universe wasn't just a random series of events, but something that listened to your quietest wishes.

When she finally reached home, drenched and fuming, Layla peeled off her soaked clothes and stood beneath a steaming hot shower. The water washed away the physical evidence of the encounter, but not the memory. Steam billowed around her as she stood under the cascading warmth, lost in thought. The image of Luca's unwavering eyes, the gold card in his hand, and the cool brush of his fingers all swirled in her mind.

In the privacy of her bathroom, she pulled out her phone and hesitantly opened a messaging app. A group chat with her two closest friends, Carmen and Tia, awaited. They were always in on her little manifestation jokes-half-serious, half-laughing about how she'd manifest someone who could whisk her away from life's drudgery. Now, with her phone still gripped in trembling fingers, she typed a message:

"Guys, you won't believe what just happened. I think the universe just sent me a delivery."

Almost immediately, her screen filled with replies-teasing emojis, incredulous "NO WAY" texts, and a barrage of playful questions. The conversation felt like a lifeline, grounding her in the playful banter that had always made the idea of manifestation nothing more than an inside joke. Yet as she scrolled through the messages, a lingering feeling of inevitability tugged at her-a quiet realization that this might not be a joke after all.

Later that night, curled up in bed with her journal resting on the nightstand, Layla stared at the blank page for a long moment. Uncertain, she hesitated before scribbling a few lines, as if trying to capture the surreal emotions of the day. Her handwriting wavered between neat and hurried, a tangible record of a day that had turned unexpectedly strange:

> "Rain, chaos, and a man named Luca. Did I manifest this moment? Is the universe listening?"

As she wrote, her thoughts spun around the day's events. Every raindrop, every flash of lightning now carried meaning. The manifestation game she once played so lightly had become a secret challenge-a mystery waiting to be unraveled. And as sleep finally began to claim her, Layla couldn't stop wondering if tomorrow would bring more surreal coincidences. Would she see Luca again? What did it mean that he knew her name, or that his touch had sparked something deep inside her?

Lying in the dark, listening to the patter of rain against her window, Layla's mind lingered on the mystery of Luca and the inexplicable pull he seemed to have. Could it be that all those whispered jokes about manifesting a better life were not entirely foolish? Perhaps the universe had a sense of humor-and a secret plan-for her.

With one last thought circling in her mind-Maybe I called him for more than just rescue from the rain-Layla drifted into a restless sleep, unaware that her life was on the brink of transformation.