The bar counter was polished to perfection, reflecting the glint of gold from the chandelier above. He ran a cloth over it out of habit, his movements automatic. This wasn’t the life he’d imagined for himself—not exactly. Growing up, he’d been a dreamer. But when his father lost his job, and his mother’s health began to decline, dreams became a luxury. He dropped out of school at sixteen, trading textbooks for double shifts at the local diner.

Now, at twenty-five, he was here, working as a barman for people whose lives existed in a different universe. The kind who didn’t think twice about a bottle of champagne costing more than his monthly rent. Nights like this were reminders of how far he was from the life he wanted and how unlikely it was he’d ever get there.

He poured drinks with the precision of someone who knew the importance of blending into the background. To them, he wasn’t a person—just another part of the décor.

And then he saw her.

She stood by the grand piano, her gown trailing behind her like liquid gold. He couldn’t explain why she caught his attention; she wasn’t the first rich girl he’d seen tonight. Maybe it was the way her eyes seemed to carry a weight that the others didn’t, or the subtle hesitation in her movements, as though she didn’t quite belong.

He thought of his sister, who used to tease him for being a hopeless romantic. “You fall in love with anyone who looks your way,” she’d say. But this felt different, sharper, like the kind of longing that carves itself into your bones.

He turned away, focusing on the cocktail shaker in his hands, the ice clinking against the metal. But when she approached the bar, her steps unhurried, he straightened, heart pounding. He wasn’t sure what he expected—some polite small talk, maybe an order for a martini. Instead, her eyes met his, and for a moment, the weight of his world lightened.

“Can I get you something?” he asked, his voice rough, betraying the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.