Adrian unlocked the door to his apartment, the soft click echoing faintly in the quiet hallway. He stepped inside, his shoes sinking into the thick carpet. The air inside carried the faint scent of cedar and something crisp from the open balcony door. He closed the door behind him, setting the lock with an absent turn before dropping his keys onto the small dish by the entry table. The metallic clink was sharp in the stillness.
His jacket came next. He slipped it off, folding it over the arm of the sofa rather than tossing it. Adrian wasn't one to leave things in disarray. His watch followed, set down carefully beside the keys, and then he reached up to tug his tie loose. The faint tension around his neck eased as the silk slid free.
He crossed to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and leaned against the counter. The cold drink was grounding, but it did little to quiet his thoughts. Naya's face kept flashing in his mind, framed by the soft light of the parking lot earlier that evening. She had been… more than he expected.
Her voice, steady yet cautious. The way she held her ground, even though there had been a flicker of hesitation in her eyes when they first faced each other. And then, that moment in the corridor — the way her gaze lingered, almost as if she were trying to read him and keep him at arm's length at the same time.
But what kept replaying, unshaken, was the small mark along the curve of her wrist. He had caught it when she shifted the strap of her bag. A bruise, faint but fresh. The sight had lit something in him — an ember of anger that burned low, steady, and dangerous. He had schooled his expression, refusing to let her see any change in his face, because he knew enough to recognize when someone did not want their vulnerability pointed out.
He set the glass down and moved into the living room, lowering himself onto the sofa. The city lights spilled through the wide windows, painting thin streaks of gold across the floor. He leaned back, resting one arm on the cushion, and let his head tip slightly to the side.
He thought about the office earlier. How she had handled herself in that meeting. She had been prepared, composed, sharp in a way that commanded attention without trying to force it. It wasn't only the points she made, but the way she listened. People often spoke for the sake of filling the room. She didn't. She waited until she had something worth saying — and when she said it, it was worth hearing.
Adrian had worked with many people, but he could count on one hand the ones who left an impression beyond the professional. Most blurred into the same ambition, the same politeness, the same need to please. Naya was different. She carried a quiet resilience, the kind that was not put on for display.
He shifted forward, elbows on his knees, fingers loosely linked. She had been a surprise from the moment they crossed paths in the building lobby days ago. And now, after seeing her again, he found she was not fading from his thoughts the way most people did once the day ended. She lingered. Every detail — the calm way she met his eyes, the measured tone of her voice, the faint curve of a smile that never quite reached her eyes — stayed with him.
Adrian stood, restless. He walked toward the balcony and stepped outside. The night air was cool, wrapping around him as he rested his hands on the railing. Below, the city hummed, the occasional horn or distant sound of conversation rising up from the streets. Somewhere across the way, a light flicked on in another apartment.
He thought again of the bruise. He hated the thought of someone hurting her, whether carelessly or deliberately. He hated more that she might be the type to bear it in silence. He didn't know why it mattered to him so much, but it did.
And then there was the strange ease between them in the parking lot. The way they had spoken — unhurried, without the guarded politeness that usually coated first conversations. There had been a subtle undercurrent there, something neither of them named but both felt. He was sure of it.
His gaze drifted toward the building opposite his balcony. Her apartment was somewhere in there. The knowledge pulled at him in an unfamiliar way. He could walk across the hall now, knock on her door, and ask… what, exactly? He had no answer.
Adrian stepped back inside, sliding the balcony door shut behind him. The clock on the wall read half past nine. He loosened the cuff buttons on his shirt, rolling the sleeves to his forearms as he moved toward the bedroom. The room was spare, clean lines and muted tones, nothing unnecessary.
Adrian exhaled and walked toward the bathroom. The warm water of the bath was a small relief, washing away the tension from his muscles, but it didn't ease the weight on his mind. He stayed there a little longer than usual, letting the quiet ripple of the water fill the silence.
When he finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, he felt the cool air against his skin and moved back into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely. This wasn't about curiosity anymore. He had met many people who crossed his path for a moment, exchanged polite words, and were gone from his mind by the next day. But she… Naya had taken root.
Her eyes, the slight way her brows drew together when she was thinking, the way she spoke without rushing — it was all still there, playing back with a clarity that made him feel like he was still standing beside her.
Adrian reached over and switched off the bedside lamp. The room dropped into darkness, but his mind didn't settle. Sleep would not come easily tonight.