Chapter Four: The set up

Zane

The meeting had drained every ounce of energy I had. Hours of forced smiles and fake laughter, of shaking hands I didn’t care to remember and agreeing to things I’d already decided against. And my parents, as always, sat at the head of it all —controllers pulling strings I never gave them permission to hold.

They were implacable. Still trying to force a woman into my life like I was a piece in one of their kept business mergers. “Zane, she's the daughter of our oldest partner.” “Zane, she comes from a good family.” “Zane, you’re old enough to get married you can’t be alone forever.”I mean for God’s sake,I am just thirty.

What if I wanted not to get married?

What if I was tired of going on different dates, with those ladies with fake and artificial body? What if I didn’t want a woman who already had her claws dug into our wealth before she even touched my hand?

I didn’t argue. Not out loud. There was no point. I just stood, loosened my tie, and left them and disappeared from the room like a ghost.

I told my assistant to drop me at the hotel.

No questions. No explanation. Just get me away need some space.

The bar was dim, the rainbow lights hanging like old secrets above polished glass and fake smiles. I didn’t care who was there, didn’t glance twice at the couples make out in shadow or the businessmen pretending they weren’t crying into their whiskey.

I just needed to breathe. To forget about my stress.

I sat down onto a barstool and ordered something strong. Something without a name, just a burn. I didn’t ask what it was, didn’t even, taste it. I downed it. One, then another. The burning was Just enough to mute the noise clawing through my head.

I was halfway through my second drink when the bar started to shift.

It happened slowly, like melting. My limbs grew heavy. My chest constricted. My fingers trembled against the glass, the edge slipping through my grip like oil. I blinked, but my vision stayed blurred—edges soft and slanted like a dream unraveling. I was burning up.

What the hell was that…? I thought.

I gripped the counter as I tried to sit straighter. But my legs felt weak beneath the weight of my body.

My thoughts starts to break into pieces. A conversation behind me bled into the music overhead. My name echoed, maybe in my head, maybe not. It was all in a haze.

My heart was racing and beating so fast loud in my ears, but my hands were numb. I couldn’t feel them. Couldn’t lift them. My chest felt like it was being pressed down by an invisible hand.

I tried to stand.

But failed.

The floor swayed beneath me like a boat.

A soft voice murmured nearby. Maybe directed at me, maybe not. I could not tell. Could not focus. Everything was all in a slow, dull film. The sound expanded and warped, like the whole world had been dipped in honey.

Then a figure moved in front of me.

A lady?

I wasn’t clear. Just softness. Curves and shadows. Her silhouette seemed to washed at the edges, like she didn’t quite belong in this world. Like she was in my dream.

She looked lost. Or maybe I was lost.

For a moment, the world narrowed until I could only see her.

I couldn’t see her eyes clearly, but I felt them. Felt the way she looked at me like I was something breakable. Or maybe like she was the one who is about to break.

“You’re tired,” I think I said. My voice barely made it past my lips, I could barely hear my voice. Even I was not sure if it was real. But it must have reached her, because she froze.

I saw her fingers quivered

And then — I don’t know why — I reached out.

And steadied her hand.

Her skin was so warm, So soft that it didn’t feel real. Like touching petals hovering in water. I should have stopped, but didn’t pulled away.

She leaned forward. Just a bit.

And suddenly everything was still. The noise in my head, the weight in my chest—it was all suspended. I felt the move, like a current pulling us under. Her breath brushed my cheek, sweet and fragile.

She smelled like vanilla , Like wildflowers after a storm. Familiar and foreign all at the same time.

I do not remember standing.

I could only remember taking her hand.

But we were walking.

Together.

Down a hallway I was to familiar with. Her steps were unsteady, like mine, but we didn’t fall. We held on to each other, guided by something that wasn’t logic. Wasn’t thought. Just an instinct. A chain neither of us saw but both of us followed.

The elevator doors slid open with a soundless beep.

We both didn’t speak.

Neither her nor I.

It felt like we were underwater, words too heavy to rise to the surface.

The hallway stretched on like forever and but not time at all. My room, a door. My fingers fumbling with the key card. Then we were both inside.

The lights glow was low. The silence was heavy.

She stood in the center, small and still. I turned to her. My hand brushed her cheek.

Her skin— oh God, her skin.

I saw her eyes. Wide and confused. Lit like stars too close to burning.

“You’re beautiful,” she managed to utter.

And then her soft lips were on mine.

And I didn’t stop her.

Because something inside me had already untangled.

---

Ellen

She should not have sat down.

The moment she sank into the fluffy-cushioned barstool, her body told her everything she needed to know. Something was not right. Off in that slow, creeping way that doesn’t shout — it whispers not right.

She should not have taken the drink.

But the girls at work had handed it to her with their usual derisive smiles. "Live a little, country girl," one had said to her "You work at a hotel bar. You have got to act like you belong."

The glass was cool , Pretty,like a golden jewel.

It smelled sweet. Not like anything she’d ever tasted. Sweeter than the oranges Mr. and Mrs. Pinkins used to give her back home after harvest, when the sky was wide and the world was kind.

She did take a sip.

Just one.

And now?

Now the lounge twinkled.

Both her hand and leg felt like they didn’t belong to her.Her head swam, slow and golden, as if she were drifting in an emotion.

She blinked slowly.

And saw him.

A man. Sitting across from her emotionlessly. Dark suit, tie slightly undone. He looked out of place — like a thunderstorm in a ballroom.

His face was tilted downward, elbows on the bar. But something about him drew her or maybe is because of the drink she took. Like gravity had moved, just a little, toward him.

Her lips moved.

“I don’t… feel well.”

She wasn’t sure if she said it out loud. The words skilled out barely making it past her tongue. No one responded. Or maybe someone did. The room spun too slowly to know.

She turned her head again, and there he was.

Closer.

His eyes were hazy. Confused. But still watching her.

“You’re tired,” he whispered softly.

His voice… it wasn’t just sound. It wrapped around her like a magnet. It moved through her skin, like a memory she hadn’t lived yet. Smooth, calm, velvet-laced thunder.

She didn’t know him.

Couldn’t remember how she got there.

But she felt safe.

Felt like warmth in the cold embrace.

Her knees wobbled as she tried to shift. Her hand trembled against the polished wood of the bar. Then—his hand, Catching hers gentle and steady.

She should have pulled away.

But she did not.

Her breath was caught.

He didn’t move.

Just looked at her.

And something in her chest opened. Like a closed window pushed gently by the wind.

He lead, She followed.

Not because he asked. He did not need to.

The world was slow now. Everything golden and soft. His fingers brushed hers, and the touch lingered. Not possessive. Not rushed. Just enough.

They walked. Through the most, Past strangers that blurred like oil paintings. Down a hallway she did not even remember entering. Her steps faltered, but his pace matched hers perfectly.

The elevator blinked.

A door opened.

They stepped in.

Silence, but not empty.

The kind of silence that hums. That holds.

When the doors opened again, she was barely aware.

They moved as one. Out, into the quiet corridor, lined with thick carpet and golden wall lights that glimmered like old candles.

The room they entered smelled clean. Faint cologne. Polished wood and masculine .She paused, taking it in, eyes wide and heart knocking against her ribs.

He turned to face her, Slowly. Like he didn’t want to scare her.

His hand touched her cheek.

She was burning hot.

Her pulse raced beneath his fingers, but she didn’t step back.

She looked up.

The shadows moved across his face, painting him in silver and stormlight. His jaw was sharp. His eyes soft in that moment, like he was seeing her for the first time and forgetting everything else.

She was dizzy.

Not from the drink.

From the silence. From his nearness.

“You’re beautiful,” she said.

The words surprised her.

She didn’t mean to speak.

But it was true.

He was beautiful.

In a broken, tired way.

She kissed him.

Softly, unsure.

He didn’t pull away.

The moment stretched — breathless, fragile. Her hands found his chest. His fingers brushed the back of her neck. She didn’t know what she was doing.

She just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Not tonight.

Not like this.