Chapter One
The city skyline shimmered like scattered diamonds against the inky night sky. I gripped my glass of bourbon, standing at the edge of the rooftop, trying to tune out the pulsing music and drunken laughter behind me.
I shouldn't have come.
My friends had practically dragged me here, insisting that celebrating my latest architectural project was non-negotiable. "One night, Ethan. You've earned it," they'd said, as if a rooftop full of strangers was my idea of fun.
I sighed, running a hand over my jaw as I turned my attention to the horizon. The view was mesmerizing, sure, but it couldn't drown out the feeling of disconnection that seemed to settle deeper in my chest lately.
"Escaping the chaos?"
Her voice was low, teasing, and it cut through the noise like a perfectly tuned note.
I turned, and for a moment, I forgot how to speak. She stood there, holding a glass of wine, her dark hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Her lips curved in a knowing smile, and her eyes... God, her eyes felt like they were peeling back every layer I'd ever built around myself.
"Something like that," I managed, my voice rougher than I intended. "And you?"
She shrugged, a casual elegance in the gesture. "Just passing through. I like finding the quiet corners."
I felt myself smile—an unfamiliar, unguarded smile. "Then you've found the right place. I'm Ethan."
"Aria," she said, her hand brushing mine as we shook. Her touch was brief, but it lingered.
I don't know how it happened, but suddenly, we were talking like old friends—like kindred spirits, even. She told me about her life as a travel journalist, always on the move, chasing stories and sunsets. I told her about my work, designing buildings that were meant to last for generations.
"Interesting," she said, swirling her wine. "You create things that stay rooted, and I can't seem to stay in one place."
I chuckled. "Maybe that's why you're drawn to the quiet corners."
Her laughter was warm, and it wrapped around me in a way I didn't expect. As the hours passed, the party seemed to dissolve around us. It was just her and me, perched on the edge of the rooftop, the city stretching out endlessly below.
"Do you believe in fate?" she asked suddenly, her voice softer, more vulnerable.
I hesitated, turning the question over in my mind. "I don't know. I think we make our own paths."
She studied me, her gaze steady. "Maybe. Or maybe moments like this are meant to happen."
Before I could answer, she leaned in, and I felt her lips brush against mine. It was a whisper of a kiss at first—tentative, testing—but then it deepened, igniting something I couldn't ignore.
The rest of the night was a blur of quiet whispers and stolen touches. We ended up at my apartment, the city lights streaming through the windows as we discovered each other in ways words could never express.
As dawn began to creep through the curtains, I lay awake, watching her sleep. Her hair spilled across the pillow, her features soft in the morning light. I felt... something I couldn't name. Something I hadn't felt in years.
But when I woke again, she was gone.
I sat up, the bed cold and empty beside me. On the pillow, there was a single note, written in a looping, confident hand:
"Some connections are meant to last just one night. — Aria."
I read it over and over, her words sinking deeper into my chest. A whisper of her touch lingered on my skin, but she was already a memory.
And for the first time in my perfectly constructed life, I felt completely untethered.
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