The energy inside the gallery was alive. Freshers Night was in full swing. Music thrummed gently in the background, warm lights danced across the room, and students drifted between art installations and activity booths. Outside, fairy lights blinked across the courtyard, leading to the gallery entrance where a few students tried their luck at the “spin-the-wheel” game for free art prints and snacks.

Inside, Sarah moved between rooms, giving directions, adjusting a few items on display, occasionally helping set up QR registration codes for internships and student discounts. She was tired, yes, but something about the atmosphere made it easier to smile. She was in her element; half working, half observing the blend of people walking in. First years, mostly. Excited, curious, awkward. A few were clearly there for the art; others, just for the vibe.

Revi had wandered off toward the game stalls, his laughter echoing faintly from outside. Michael, on the other hand, had found himself drifting slowly back toward a piece he couldn’t stop thinking about. A large, textured abstract canvas hung near the far wall, framed in subtle gold. It was bold, almost chaotic, but beautiful, like something unfinished but intentional. He stood before it now, hands in his pockets, circling once, twice. His gaze flicked across the room, and that’s when he saw her.

She was walking past the archway, clipboard in hand, curls bouncing slightly with each step. That same jacket. The same gloss on her lips. Her body suit hugged her chest in a way that made Michael’s thoughts scatter for a second. He tried not to stare too long, but God! If he had a weakness, it was definitely the way a woman looked in a low-cut top. And she wore it like she wasn’t even trying. Effortlessly magnetic. He swallowed and looked back at the painting, heart doing a quiet flip.

Sarah noticed him too. That same guy from the lift. Still handsome. Still slightly disheveled. But somehow... put together. She tilted her head, pausing mid-step. He was eyeing the most expensive piece in the room. Her brows raised slightly. Was he actually considering it? Nah. He was just a student.

He turned to her, hesitant but curious. “Hey,” he said, voice smooth, British accent clear. “This one’s insane. What’s the story behind it?”

Sarah straightened a bit, glad she knew the answer. “It’s a custom piece,” she replied, stepping closer. “Commissioned specifically for the gallery’s anniversary. Only one of its kind.”

He nodded, lips twitching. “Yeah... I can tell. It’s got this… unhinged sort of confidence.” His eyes met hers again, briefly, before glancing back at the canvas. “I like that.”

Sarah studied him more closely now. The way he talked. Calm, but with a practiced kind of poise. He knew what he was saying. She found herself wondering, Art student? Wealthy background? Nepo baby?

“You seem like you know what you’re talking about,” she said carefully.

He smiled, a little boyish now. “I’ve always loved art,” he said, avoiding the question.

Then, to her shock, he pulled out his card. “Can I get it?”

Sarah blinked. “Wait...you want to… buy it?”

Michael gave a small shrug. “Yeah. I was going to wait. But I’ve been thinking about it all evening. I want it.”

There was a small pause. She tapped something on her tablet, brows furrowing. “It’s not exactly cheap.”

“I know.” His eyes softened. “Still want it.”

She looked at the card, his name printed clearly on it. Michael.

“You want it delivered?” she asked, recovering quickly. “We can have it sent...”

He shook his head. “Nah. Let it stay here for now. I’ll come pick it up next week or so. Just… mark it sold.”

She nodded, still slightly stunned. “Alright then. I’ll inform the manager.”

Their eyes lingered on each other. There was a flicker of something charged, awkward, maybe but not uncomfortable. Michael rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t meant to stare again, but her chest rose softly with each breath, and that neckline...God, he needed to get a grip.

“You, uh… work here?” he asked, gesturing toward her lanyard, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“Just started,” she replied, fingers brushing the tag. “Gallery assistant.”

“Cool.” Another pause.

“You’re not going to ask for a student discount?” she said with a small smirk.

He chuckled. “I thought about it. But then I saw your face and figured you’d say no.”

Sarah gave a short laugh.

Another silence passed, comfortable, but buzzing.

“I should get back,” she said finally, eyes flicking to the next room.

“Yeah, me too.” He hesitated. “Well, not really. I’m just... here.”

She smiled. “Enjoy the night.”

He nodded, eyes trailing her for just a second longer than necessary before she turned and walked away. His heart thudded stupidly.

Michael exhaled and muttered to himself, “She’s gonna be a problem.”

Then he turned back to the piece he just bought . His first real art piece.

But all he could really think about was the girl with curls, glossed lips, and a neckline he’d probably never forget.

The night wore on, and the Freshers Art Night buzzed with excitement. Music shifted into a softer tempo, and the once-scattered groups of students now moved like a current, flowing from display to display, laughing, chatting, taking pictures.

Sarah moved around, giving directions, straightening displays, answering light questions. But every so often, when she turned, she’d find his eyes already on her.

Michael.

They kept catching each other’s gaze , brief, flickering moments across the room. Neither smiled fully. Neither waved. But the awareness was there. Charged. Curious. He’d look away first sometimes, sometimes she would like they were both trying to keep whatever it was quiet. Unspoken.

Revi was distracted by the spin-the-wheel again, surrounded by a few students and talking animatedly about the most ridiculous prize options. Michael stood nearby, sipping soda, eyes drifting back to the gallery entrance where Sarah now stood, talking to a tall man with sharp cheekbones and confident posture.

The guy was laughing too loud. And leaning in too much.

Michael’s jaw tensed slightly as he watched the man try to impress her , gesturing toward a painting and saying something that made Sarah tilt her head politely. She didn’t look like she was enjoying the conversation, not exactly. But she wasn’t walking away either.

Michael's hand tightened around the drink can. He couldn’t explain it . This sudden, unwelcome sting in his chest. It wasn’t like she was his. He didn’t even know her name, not properly. But that didn’t stop the irrational fire simmering in his chest.

“Yo, we about to head out,” Revi called, appearing beside him.

Michael blinked, then nodded slowly. “Alright.”

“You sure?” Revi asked. “You looked like you were enjoying the scene.”

Michael hesitated. A part of him did want to stay. He wanted to linger near the art, maybe talk to her again even just a passing conversation. But that guy was still there. Still talking. Still standing too close.

“Nah,” Michael said finally, his voice casual. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

He didn’t mention Sarah. Didn’t look in her direction again as they walked toward the exit. But just before stepping out, he stole one last glance over his shoulder and saw her laughing, brushing a curl from her cheek as the tall guy kept talking.

Sarah shut the door behind her and locked it with a soft click. Whew. What a day. She flipped on the light switch, her eyes narrowing at the sudden brightness. Today had been… a lot . A strange mix of chaos, emotions, and too many faces. Two more days of the Freshers Art Night to go, and then maybe she could crash and sleep for forty-eight hours straight. Well, except for the fact that classes weren’t going anywhere.

She was too drained to even think about what to wear tomorrow. She sank into her small sofa, letting her head fall back, eyes half-closed. Still, a part of her was quietly content. For the first time in a while, she felt a little piece of herself slotting back into place. Maybe she was starting to love her life again.

“A quick bath,” she muttered to herself as she stood. “Quick. No long, hot showers tonight.”

But when she got to the bathroom, her body begged for softness. She changed her mind. A long bath it was. She grabbed a half-empty bottle of wine from the kitchen shelf and lit the dim wall light.

Naked, she lowered herself into the warm, foamy water, the scent of vanilla and lavender rising around her. She poured herself half a glass of wine and took a slow sip. The warmth spread through her chest, loosening her further. As the bubbles clung to her skin and her body sank deeper into the water, her thoughts drifted naturally back to the gallery. To the swirl of music, colours, laughter. And, of course, to the attention. It had been flattering, sure. Being desired wasn’t the worst thing. But most of those men? She saw it in their eyes. Lust. Just lust.

Well...except him. The one who bought the art piece.

There was something in his eyes. Not hunger. Not show-offy ego. Something quieter. Curious, maybe. Thoughtful.

She swirled the wine in her glass slowly.

Something told her that wouldn’t be the last time she’d see him.

Out of the bath, she dries herself, oils her skin, and goes through a light skincare routine before slipping into her clean, lacy nightwear. It was cold tonight. She wrapped herself tightly in her blanket. The moon hung bright and beautiful outside the window.

Her phone buzzed. A message from one of the men who had tried to woo her earlier. How did he get her number? Probably Alice. She opened the text and immediately closed it. Ridiculous. A flirty message from someone she barely knew. No talk of getting to know each other, no mention of feelings or the future, just a thirsty, sexual text.

She blocked the number. Damn, he’d probably still come around tomorrow. She’d just find a way to avoid him or report him to Isaiah.

Her thoughts drifted back to Michael again. He’d been kind, genuine. No awkwardness, no pressure. The wind blew gently through the window. With that, a peaceful calm settled over her, and she slipped into a deep sleep.