The car pulled away from the glittering lights of the hotel entrance, the flashing cameras fading into the dark like dying stars. The laughter, the gossip, the whispers — all of it slowly vanished behind me. I leaned my head against the window, watching the city’s lights blur into streaks of gold and white.

I sighed softly, exhaustion seeping through me like a tide. The night had been long — too long. My dress was stained, my makeup smeared, my dignity bruised, but somehow… my heart hurt the most.

“Keep your distance, Alice,” I muttered under my breath. “Don’t forget what he said.”

Vincent’s words from before still echoed painfully in my mind:

That single line had cut deeper than any insult could.

So what was the point of hoping? Of feeling? Of letting my heart soften every time he looked at me like that?

I clenched my fingers together tightly on my lap. I told myself to be rational — to remember that this was temporary, that whatever spark flickered between us was just an echo of the past.

But deep down, a quiet voice whispered that maybe I still cared too much.

The cab turned a corner, the streets growing quieter now, lined with dim streetlights and closed shops. My eyes fluttered shut, heavy with fatigue. I needed rest — and distance. For the sake of my children, I had to endure until the divorce was finalized. That was all. Nothing more.

I let the soft hum of the car lull me into silence.

---

Meanwhile, back at the party, Vincent remained rooted to the spot, his jaw tight, the noise of the crowd fading around him. He had watched Alice leave without a word, her expression unreadable, her back straight and proud despite the humiliation.

His fists clenched at his sides.

“Mr. King,” someone called, but he didn’t respond. His eyes searched for Lillian through the crowd, and when he spotted her laughing lightly with her circle of friends, something inside him snapped.

He walked straight toward her, his tone low and cold. “What happened?”

Lillian blinked, feigning surprise. “Oh—Brother Vincent,” she said sweetly, pressing her hands together. “It was nothing serious, just… a little misunderstanding. My friends tried to talk to Alice, but she ignored them, as usual.”

Her friends nodded in unison, eyes darting nervously.

“She… ignored them?” Vincent repeated quietly, his eyes hardening.

“Yes, so they wanted to leave, and then she spilled a drink herself, pretending to be attacked. She even made a scene,” Lillian added quickly, her tone laced with false concern. “I was about to help when she—”

“Enough,” Vincent interrupted, his voice calm but heavy with restrained anger.

He turned and walked away, not wanting to hear another word. But deep inside, the truth gnawed at him. He knew Alice better than anyone — or at least, he thought he did. The woman he knew would never humiliate herself to gain attention. Still, a part of him refused to admit it aloud.

He left the venue without another glance, his car engine roaring to life as he drove into the night, the city lights reflecting sharply in his eyes.

---

The taxi came to a gentle stop in front of my apartment. I handed the driver his fare and stepped out, the cool night air brushing against my face. I took a deep breath, grateful to be away from all that noise and tension.

But then… I saw him.

Someone was waiting by the entrance — tall, familiar, calm.

“Adrian?” I blinked, surprised.

He turned at the sound of my voice, smiling warmly. “Alice.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. It had been a while since I last saw him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was nearby,” he said simply. “Thought I’d check on you. You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” I said softly, though I knew I looked anything but.

His gaze dropped to my dress, noticing the faint stains. His brow furrowed. “What happened?”

“Just a little accident,” I said quickly, brushing it off.

Adrian didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he took off his coat and gently draped it over my shoulders. The warmth of the fabric and the gesture itself made my throat tighten.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“Don’t mention it.”

He smiled — the kind of smile that carried quiet understanding, not pity. I gestured toward the door. “Come in. You shouldn’t be standing out here at this hour.”

---

Inside, the familiar scent of home welcomed me — soft vanilla and old books. Adrian settled into the couch while I went to make coffee, grateful to have something to do with my hands.

The water boiled softly in the background as I tried to push the evening’s memories away.

When I brought him his cup, he accepted it with a nod. “Still the same old blend,” he teased gently.

“Some things never change,” I said with a faint smile, sitting opposite him.

He studied me quietly for a moment before asking, “So… how have you been, Alice? Really.”

The question caught me off guard. I hesitated, then sighed. “I’ve been… trying. Things are progressing, I guess. Work’s been demanding, but I’ve managed.”

He nodded slowly. “And your heart?”

I froze slightly. “My heart?”

He looked at me knowingly. “Sometimes, we pretend to be fine until someone asks the right question.”

I looked away, sipping my coffee. “Let’s not talk about that,” I whispered. “Some things are better left quiet.”

He didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back, his voice soft. “You’re stronger than you think, you know. Don’t let people like that—” he paused, eyes darkening slightly “—break what you’ve rebuilt.”

I felt warmth spread through my chest. “You always know what to say.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the city humming quietly outside the window. It felt peaceful — something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

After some time, Adrian glanced at his watch and stood up. “It’s getting late. I should get going.”

I followed him to the door, and that’s when he handed me a plain brown folder.

“What’s this?” I asked, frowning slightly.

“Something I think you should read,” he said. “Go through it when you’re ready.”

Before I could ask more, he smiled — that calm, reassuring smile again. “Take care of yourself, Alice.”

“I will,” I replied softly.

He waved lightly before disappearing down the street, leaving me standing in the doorway.

---

I closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. The apartment was silent again, but this silence felt different — heavier, thoughtful.

My eyes fell on the folder lying on the table. Adrian had said to go through it when I was ready, but curiosity tugged at me.

“What could it be?” I murmured.

I walked over, picked it up, and slowly opened it.

The first few lines caught my breath — designs, documents, names, proposals — all connected to something from years ago. My pulse quickened.

And in that moment, I realized this night wasn’t over yet.