1:47 AM — Penthouse Suite, Manhattan
The penthouse was silent now, emptied of glittering gowns, chatter, and the soft clink of crystal glasses. The grand hall below had darkened, and only a few staff moved quietly, clearing the remains of the evening.
Riven stood alone in his private lounge, coat off, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. A single lamp glowed behind him, casting a muted amber halo against the shelves of books and sculpted decor. He lifted a glass of whiskey, his second, maybe his third and watched the golden liquid settle.
The night felt too quiet.
His reflection in the wide window stared back at him. And yet, in the fog of the city lights beneath him, his thoughts drifted back persistent.
Her.
He exhaled slowly, jaw tense. He didn't know why the ache existed, why the empty doorway from earlier kept replaying in his mind. It was foolish. He didn't wait for anyone. He didn't hope for anyone. He lifted the glass again. A soft knock broke the silence.
"Come in," Riven said, voice smooth but cold.
The door opened and Trevor stepped into the room, running a hand through his messy hair, the soft gleam of the city lights catching on the silver watch at his wrist.
"Alright, I'm heading out," he said with an easy smile.
"Before I collapse right here on your floor. Just thought I'd say goodbye."
Riven didn't turn immediately. He took a slow sip of his whiskey, then set the glass down.
"It's late," he said. "Even for you."
Trevor chuckled under his breath.
"Packing took longer than expected. Paris tomorrow. You know how it goes."
Riven nodded once. "Two weeks, right?"
"Yeah," Trevor said.
"Meetings, rehearsals, interviews… the glamorous nightmare."
Riven hummed quietly, almost an acknowledgment.
"I'll text you when I land," Trevor added.
He smirks, "Or not. Depends on the French Wi-Fi."
"No need," Riven replied, voice low. "Just focus on what you're going for."
Trevor paused, studying him for a second. Riven rarely said anything that could pass as concern. Even now, it came out trimmed, distant but real.
Trevor's smile softened. "I'll be fine. Don't look so tense."
Riven gave him a flat look. That alone made Trevor laugh.
He continues, "Try not to brood yourself into a hole while I'm gone."
"I'll consider it," Riven said dryly.
Trevor grinned. "Good. Alright, I'm off. Goodnight"
The door clicked shut behind him. Silence filled the space instantly thick, unmoving. Riven lifted his glass again but didn't drink. He leaned back against the marble counter, eyes half-lowered as he let the quiet press around him.
The city below buzzed with life, cars, lights, laughter. But up here, the stillness felt… hollow. He loosened his tie with one hand, thoughts drifting back to the one thing he didn't want to acknowledge. He scoffed under his breath, annoyed with himself, yet unable to push the feeling away.
There was no logic to it. And yet… it stayed. The night stretched on, slow and silent, as Riven stood alone in the dim light, whiskey warming his hand, thoughts refusing to settle. The night ended just like that, unfulfilled and unsettled...
----
10 Hours Ago
Sterling Heights Medical Pavilion, Manhattan
The entrance was blocked off by sleek black cars, security personnel, and hurried paramedics wheeling emergency equipment across the marble floors. Muted footsteps, soft overhead lights, and the distant beep of machines echoing down the glass-lined corridors.
Maria stood near the reception desk, her phone pressed to her ear as she spoke to the other line,
"Yes, I'm at the hospital… No, they're still checking her condition…
I'll update you as soon as I hear anything."
She ended the call and immediately made another, pacing slowly, her fingers tightening around the phone.
Across the hallway, Kyle stood speaking with the people in charge. A senior doctor and one of the hospital coordinators. Even with worry in his eyes, his posture remained steady, composed.
"So the swelling is the main concern?" Kyle asked, his tone even.
The doctor nodded. "Yes. We've started cooling therapy to control the intracranial pressure. It's standard for head trauma of this level."
Kyle's jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded.
"Alright. As long as she's getting everything she needs."
"You don't have to worry about that," the coordinator assured. "We've assigned our top neurosurgical team."
Behind them, through a panel of glass, Kayla lay still, wrapped in cooling blankets, IV lines running from her arms, monitors tracking every small shift.
A few seats away, Julian sat quietly, hands clasped together tightly in her lap. Her eyes were red, with shaky breaths escaping her. Maria sat beside her, offering silent support.
Kyle finally stepped away from the staff and walked toward Maria and Julian. His voice lowered,
"What happened exactly? Did anyone see?"
Maria looked up, saying,
"A witness spoke to me earlier. The father of the kid."
Kyle listened calmly.
"He said a little girl wandered onto the road. Kayla pushed her out of the way."
Kyle closed his eyes briefly exhaling, just a quiet acceptance of something that made sense.
"Of course she did," he murmured.
He looked up again, composed.
"She'll pull through. She always does."
Maria nodded, though her eyes were worried. Julian's fingers tightened around her handkerchief, but she didn't speak.
A nurse walked up to them.
"She'll be under observation for a few more hours. You can stay in the waiting lounge."
Kyle nodded politely. "Thank you."
As the nurse walked away, Kyle took one more glance at Kayla through the glass wall before turning back to help his mother settle down in the lounge suite the hospital staff had prepared. It was more comfortable than the regular waiting area, meant for families during long treatments.
A week later
12:42 — The Halo Infinity Deck, Manhattan
The rooftop glowed under blue neon strips, the kind that made everything look expensive, even the chaos. Music thumped low, heavy, vibrating through the marble floors. Smoke curled in the air, mixing with the scent of alcohol and something far stronger that the staff pretended not to see.
People lounged around the infinity pool, half-dressed, half-drunk, fully reckless. Laughter burst from every corner the kind that came from too much money and too little sense.
Daemin sat near the edge, a drink dangling from his fingers, his black shirt unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled to his elbows. His friends, Arin in an all-white suit that already had lipstick stains, and Victor in a loose dark blazer with chains, leaned back in their seats, high on ego and liquor.
Their conversation was loud, crude, and careless.
Someone cracked a cheap, dirty joke about a model nearby, when a group of girls walked past, all dressed in shimmer. No one here treated anyone like a person, more like toys thrown into a playground.
Daemin smirked half-heartedly, swirling his drink.
"Man, remember Richard?"
Arin said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That guy was a pain."
Daemin's jaw tightened.
"A pain?" he muttered. "He was worse. Always thinking he mattered."
Arin snorted. "Man, you let that guy walk around for years.
Couldn't even handle him properly."
Victor chuckled. "Exactly. Now someone else finished the job for you. Embarrassing, isn't it?"
They were mocking him, he tapped his glass once against the table.
"I had my own plans," he said, tone calm.
"Doesn't matter now." Arin leaned back, still smirking.
"So who killed him then?"
Daemin's grits his teeth,
"That's what I'm figuring out," he said, in anger.
He threw back another shot, the liquid burning down his throat. He ruffled his hair lazily, letting out a sharp exhale as if trying to shake off the irritation but it lingered.
He stood abruptly, drink still in hand.
"You know the fun part from all these ?"
Daemin said, walking toward the pool,
steps uneven only because he didn't care to balance.
"I make people play for me, as I wish."
And without warning, he leaned back and let himself fall, straight into the pool. The splash was loud, soaking the edge and startling a few nearby, but his hand never let go of the glass.
He floated there, staring up at the night sky, drink loosely lifted above the water. Because that was him. Reckless, unbothered and scary as he owns.
----
A few days later
11:26 AM — Sterling Heights Medical Pavilion, Manhattan
"...yeah, yeah, I just reached. I'll call you. Take care," Sophia said into her phone before slipping it into her bag.
She pushed open the door to Kayla's suite, a wide, quiet room with soft lighting, warm beige walls, plush couches… everything calm.
Inside, Tessa was already laughing over something. Kayla rolled her eyes at her. Sophia lifted an eyebrow, placing a small pastry box on the side table before sitting beside Kayla. She gave her a tiny smile, the kind you give when you're relieved but still worried.
"Is she troubling you?" Sophia whispered dramatically. "Should I drag her out?"
Kayla let out the faintest chuckle. "Please…"
"Wow. Ouch," Tessa said, pressing a hand to her chest in fake pain, before she happily moved to the table and opened the pastry box.
Within seconds she was munching on one,
"Oh my god, I'm in love with these," Tessa said with her mouth half full.
Sophia laughed softly, and Kayla smiled. Finally, a real one.
They all talked for a while, nothing heavy, just small things. How Kayla was feeling. How boring hospital hours could be. How Tessa had apparently tortured three nurses with her questions in the past two days.
Just then a knock came as Julian stepped in.
She gave everyone a small smile.
"The food will be here soon," she said gently. "Please have it."
Kayla looked away almost immediately, turning her face to the other side of the pillow, her fingers tightening just slightly. She didn't say anything. Didn't have to... Sophia and Tessa exchanged a quiet glance.
Kayla… was holding back a lot.
Just as much as she wished all of it had disappeared with her that day...
----
Two Months Later
12:50 — Investigation Division, Classified Facility
Kayla stepped out of the elevator, as she walked through the glass corridor of the legal firm. Recovery had been slow, but steady. She still couldn't take on heavy cases, and everyone knew to keep the exhausting workloads away from her.
Meetings, reviews, strategy checks, she handled those. Just enough to stay busy. Just enough to feel normal again.
She reached the chief's cabin and knocked lightly.
"Come in," his voice called.
Kayla pushed the door open only to pause.
The atmosphere felt… different. Two men were inside. One sitting, composed. Another standing beside him.
The chief, normally relaxed, looked unusually formal. Respectful.
"…so there's nothing to worry about," he says.
"We'll begin the internal review, and once the preliminary reports are sorted, Miss Kayla will be leading the head on this."
Kayla blinked. Leading… what?
She looked between them, silently processing the situation.
The chief continued, smiling politely,
"We'll ensure the transition is smooth. I hope you won't have any concerns going forward, Mr. Veynar."
At that name, her brows tightened a fraction. She looked toward the man the chief was addressing. And then she saw him. He turned at the same moment, hearing the knock, his gaze landing on her.
A small furrow formed between his brows, the same confusion she felt flickering in his eyes or maybe something more than that?
Autor's POV —
Some endings feel certain...
Until fate curves the path toward them once more , reminding us that nothing truly ends where we think it does.
Maybe it's simply life offering what was missed the first time or a quiet chance to meet what was always meant to find us.
----