You almost don’t notice it.

It’s 12:03am. You’re still in your heels, curled up on the edge of your hotel bed with your laptop glowing in front of you, rereading a merger clause you’ve gone over five times.

The phone buzzes. Just once.

You glance.

Instagram: @xaviercastillo just posted for the first time in a while.

Weird. He barely uses it. The last post was three months ago — a grayscale skyline, no caption. Pure aesthetic.

You click anyway.

And there it is.

A photo carousel.

Slide one: a dark, ambient shot of a rooftop table — decanted wine, candles, the faint outline of a night skyline behind thick glass. Cold, clean, and untouchably luxurious.

Slide two: the corner of a plate — barely visible steak tartare and caviar. Very him.

Slide three: you.

Not your face. Not your voice. Just your hand.

Ringless. Bare. Elegant.

Resting lightly — comfortably — on his wrist.

Your nails are painted the deep red you wore earlier tonight. The silk cuff of your blouse is unmistakable.

And his watch — your favorite one on him — glints faintly beneath your touch.

You freeze.

Not because it’s inappropriate.

But because he never posts anyone. Not family. Not friends. Especially not relationships — because as far as the world’s concerned, Xavier Castillo doesn’t have relationships.

But this? This is a soft launch. The softest.

No tag. No caption. Just that little flicker of intimacy. That proof.

And the world notices immediately.

---

Within thirty minutes, Twitter is crawling with theories:

“that’s not his assistant’s hand. i know that manicure.” “guys this is not a drill xavier castillo has a WOMAN???” “blurry background hand on the wrist? this man is doing a full slow burn reveal and i’m living for it.” “does anyone have the guest list for that rooftop event?? we need to narrow it down.” “THE POWER COUPLE ENERGY IS LEAPING OFF THE SCREEN I’M UNWELL”

You scroll, stunned, watching the chaos spiral — name guessing, ring zoom-ins, even a blurry screen-record of the wine bottle in the background like someone can crack the location code. It’s ridiculous. Intense. A little terrifying.

But you’re also smiling. Just a little.

Because Xavier?

He knew this would happen.

He knew exactly what that image would say.

And when your phone buzzes again — this time with a message from him — your smile deepens.

“Figured it was time.” “Let them guess. It’s more fun that way.”

You type back, only half-teasing: “You soft-launched me like a luxury product line.”

A pause.

Then his reply:

“You are one.” “But they’ll never get the full campaign.” “That’s mine.”