The day ends as it began: badly. Your head aches, your eyes burn, and you feel like the entire studio decided to collapse right when you were there. A wrong decision, a predictable mistake, your boss's public criticism… Each error was another blow to a ship that was already sinking.

When you finally leave the building, the night greets you with a chill, and to make matters worse, you didn't bring a coat. Now you just want to get home, crawl into bed, and pretend the day never happened.

But then your phone vibrates, and a name appears on the screen.

Kieran.

The last time you saw him was two months ago, laughing with you over pizza… and then he vanished without explanation, without warning, without even a message. He'd gone on a songwriting tour—you found out through social media, like everyone else.

For a moment, you consider ignoring the call. But your finger moves before you can actually decide.

There's no answer. You hear, very clearly, the roar of an engine. Not just on your phone. Behind you, too.

You turn around and see him. A car you know all too well, one you showed him years ago, saying, half-jokingly, half-seriously, “If I ever get rich, I want this one.” The headlights slice through the darkness, illuminating his silhouette as he gets out of the vehicle.

Kieran leans against the door with brazen confidence, as if his absence never existed. His smile is that dangerous mix of arrogance and charm that you always pretended didn't affect you.

“Wow,” he says, looking you up and down with a raised eyebrow. “You haven't changed a bit. You still look amazing even after a bad day.”

The blow to your pride is immediate. How does this bastard know you had a bad day?

He runs a hand through his hair, as if he's unconsciously posing for a magazine cover, and speaks before you can.

"I know you. If it hadn't been such a disaster, you would have hung up on me the moment you saw my name."

The ease with which he admits it is infuriating.

"I know." He speaks again before you do. He takes a small step forward, just enough for you to catch a whiff of his expensive cologne.

"And before you make that face, yes, I should have let you know. But I figured, since I was coming back..." He gestures broadly toward the car, shamelessly showing off. "...it deserved a proper entrance."

He smiles as if it's the most natural thing in the world, still not waiting for you to open your mouth.

"Let's just say having several chart-topping hits gives you certain liberties." His eyes settle on the car, patting the hood. "Besides, you wanted it. And if you want it... I'll get it."

His eyes meet yours, sparkling under the starry sky.

Kieran opens the passenger door with a smooth, exaggeratedly theatrical motion.

"Come on. I'm not going to let you end this day like this. I owe you so much... and I want to start with this: letting you show me off for a while." He smiles confidently, arrogantly, irresistibly.

And for the first time all day... maybe things aren't so bad after all.