Elara was seated on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket. Outside, the weather was cold and dark, and the steady sound of raindrops pattering against the windows echoed through the room. Inside, however, the temperature was warm and comfortable, a small refuge from the chill. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the space, casting gentle shadows along the walls. From somewhere in the house, the sound of laughter rang out—Mira's voice, lively and carefree, carrying across the entire neighborhood.
"You need to sleep early, Ela. You'll be going to work tomorrow," Mira said, her voice tinged with playful admonishment as she pulled off her bra and tossed it aside without a care.
Elara murmured, about to respond, but before a word could leave her lips, Mira grabbed her and, with surprising strength, pushed her onto the bed.
"There are things I need to round up. It's job-related," Mira added, her frustration evident in the sigh she heaved.
A few minutes passed, and Elara felt herself drifting into the warmth of drowsiness. Just as her eyes were beginning to close, they snapped open in surprise. Mira was standing near the bed, bare-chested. No bra, no singlet—her milky-white breasts exposed to the dim light.
Elara swallowed hard. She had seen Mira naked before, yes, but not like this—not in this sudden, brazen way. Her chest tightened and her mind raced, heart beating faster than it had a moment ago.
"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling, breaking the heavy silence.
"There's something I discovered on the internet," Mira said casually. "It's called scissors. It's done between two girls."
Elara scoffed. Mira was the type who watched explicit content but never flirted with a guy, so this must have come from a porn site. Confused and curious, Elara grabbed her phone and searched for the term. An image appeared—two naked girls lying across each other, their bodies pressed intimately together. Elara glanced at Mira, then quickly back at her phone.
"There's no way you're asking me to do this with you," she murmured, her eyes betraying her as they flicked to Mira's hard, tempting nipples. She quickly shut her eyes and laid flat on the bed, forcing herself not to look again. Her palms felt clammy, and her breathing grew shallow. She tried to focus on anything else—the sound of the rain, the distant hum of the heater—but Mira's presence pressed against her mind, overwhelming her senses.
Mira lay down beside her, curling up and pulling Elara close. The warmth of her body pressed against Elara's, and for a moment, all the tension melted away. The room grew quiet again, the rhythmic sound of rain filling the silence, and the darkness slowly enveloped their vision as sleep crept over them.
The next morning, Elara woke at exactly 5:58 AM. She stretched and yawned, glancing over at Mira, who was still asleep, her lips slightly parted and chest rising and falling steadily. A small smile formed on Elara's lips, and she slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, careful not to disturb her friend.
Walking to the bathroom, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She picked up her toothbrush, brushing her teeth methodically, then stepped into a warm shower. The hot water slid down her body, chasing away the remnants of sleep and leaving her feeling refreshed. She lingered a little under the spray, savoring the warmth, before drying herself and dressing carefully, ensuring her outfit looked neat and professional.
By the time she glanced at the clock again, it was already 8:15 AM. She leaned over Mira and whispered a soft goodbye before stepping out of the house. Hailing a cab, she hoped to make up for lost time.
Elara brought out her phone, intending to check the time, when it suddenly rang. The name of her work manager flashed on the screen, and her eyes widened in fear. She let out a shaky sigh, reaching to pick up the call, when the cab jolted violently, slamming into another vehicle. Her phone slipped from her hand and hit her head on the driver's seat. Pain radiated through her skull, and she winced, shaking her head to clear it.
"Elara!" she shouted in frustration, leaping out of the cab to retrieve it. The device had slid under the seat. After a few tense minutes, she managed to pull it out, ruffling her hair and letting out another sigh of exasperation.
Her gaze shifted, and her breath caught. The cab had collided with a car that looked almost unreal—a Ferrari 250 GTO, sleek and black, shining despite the rain. Only a handful of people in the country owned such a car, and now she faced it, heart pounding, stomach twisting with anxiety. How could she possibly pay for even a scratch? Her hands shook as she took in every detail—the gleaming bodywork, the intricate rims, the pristine shine.
The owner stepped out, tall and broad-shouldered, his sharp jawline cutting a striking silhouette. He looked familiar—Elara had seen him on television once—but seeing him in person was nothing like the screen. His presence was commanding, and every movement seemed deliberate, calm, and confident.
Elara froze, staring as he casually inspected the car. The scratch was minor, barely noticeable, and he seemed entirely unconcerned.
"We are really sorry for this, we really di—" she began, but he moved to the passenger side of the car, ignoring her. The window rolled down, revealing a shadowed figure inside. Curiosity overtook caution, and Elara tiptoed closer to get a better look.
Her entire body froze when the figure inside met her gaze. Her legs trembled, and her heart nearly stopped. She could barely see him through the darkened glass, only catching a glimpse before the window rolled up. The aura around him was overwhelming, dangerous, and strangely magnetic. Every instinct in her screamed to back away, yet she felt rooted to the spot, unable to move.
The man in the black leather coat turned to her, his piercing eyes seeming to look straight through her.
"Watch out, 'cause next time you won't be this lucky," he said, studying her face intently. Then, without another word, he walked back to his car and drove off, leaving Elara frozen, her pulse racing.
The cab owner approached her, smiling warmly and thanking her for taking responsibility. Elara forced a smile in return, shaking her head to indicate that it was nothing. She felt her legs unsteady as she turned to leave. Something on the ground caught her eye—a card left where the man in black leather had been standing. She bent down, picking it up and tucking it into her bag before flagging another cab to continue her journey.
The company she worked for was small, paying little despite her long hours. Her job as a typist required her to collect files from different offices, type them meticulously until completed, and ensure deadlines were met. She had been doing this work for months, yet every day felt heavier than the last, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her.
As soon as she entered the office that morning, she was sent straight to the manager's office. Her mind kept replaying the image of the mysterious man, his intense gaze, and the black Ferrari, leaving her unsettled and distracted as she walked through the familiar but mundane halls of her workplace.