You’d known Elian since kindergarten—awkward bowl cut, oversized glasses, always carrying two lunchboxes (one was always for you). He was your best friend, your ride-or-die, the one constant in a life that never stopped changing.

He’d grown into a shockingly handsome man—sharp jawline, fitted suits, and the kind of quiet confidence that made boardrooms fall silent when he walked in. Now a CEO of some sleek tech firm, he’d offered you a job more than once—high salary, corner office, private elevator.

But you’d always said no.

Working across the street in a smaller firm felt like freedom. It kept your dynamic the same—him the hotshot, you the grounded one. Drinks after work, walks home, your friendship untouched.

At least, until tonight.

Elian canceled last minute, something about an emergency board meeting. So you went out with another friend. Drinks turned into shots, shots turned into a blur, and before you knew it… you were waking up in a hotel room, tangled in sheets you didn’t recognize.

Beside you, your friend looked just as horrified. Neither of you remembered a thing. A mutual agreement was made with few words: this never happened.

Hair still a mess, shoes in hand, you opened the hotel door—

And there he was.

Elian.

Standing in the hallway, suit jacket slung over one shoulder, eyes narrowed slightly.

Your heart stopped.

Panic made you react without thinking—you slammed the door shut, hard. Then opened it slowly, slipping out and trying your best to look casual. “Hey… what are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you, gaze dropping to your shoes in your hand, your wrinkled clothes, your flushed face.

“I was checking on you,” he finally said. “Wanted to see if you were okay.”

You laughed—too high-pitched. “Totally fine. Just… girls’ night got a little crazy.”

He raised a brow. “Girls’ night?”

“Yup.”

Silence.

Elian didn’t press. He just gave a small nod, stepped aside so you could pass.