TOUCHDOWN AND ARRIVAL

The pilot’s voice crackled through the speakers, calm and professional. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be arriving at John Glenn Columbus International Airport shortly. Local time is 2:30 AM, and the weather is clear with a temperature of 58 degrees Fahrenheit. Please fasten your seatbelts as we begin our descent.”

Anthony Scarfeild closed his laptop and tucked it into the sleek leather briefcase beside him. He glanced out the window, watching the city lights grow brighter beneath the clouds. His mind wasn’t on the view. It was on the folder of documents he’d just reviewed for the third time. Everything was in order. Everything always was.

The plane touched down smoothly, and within minutes, Anthony was walking through the terminal with his usual quiet confidence. A driver stood near the exit holding a placard with his name. Anthony approached without a word, and the man gave a polite nod.

“Mr. Scarfeild, I’ll be taking you to the hotel. James sends his regards.”

Anthony returned the nod and followed him to a black SUV parked just outside. The ride was short, quiet, and efficient — just the way he liked it. The city passed by in a blur of streetlights and storefronts, none of which caught his attention.

The hotel was upscale but understated, with a marble lobby and soft jazz playing in the background. At the front desk, the receptionist greeted him warmly and handed over his room key. A bellhop took his luggage and led him to the elevator.

His room was on the tenth floor — spacious, modern, and tastefully decorated in neutral tones. The bellhop placed his suitcase on the luggage rack, offered a brief rundown of the amenities, and left with a quiet “Have a good night, sir.”

Anthony locked the door behind him and took a slow breath. He loosened his tie, removed his blazer, and began unpacking. His suit for tomorrow’s meeting was hung neatly in the closet. His briefcase was placed on the desk, and the prenup file was laid out beside it, ready for one final review in the morning.

He wasn’t hungry — the in-flight meal had been decent enough — but he ordered a bottle of water from room service. When it arrived, he drank half, placed the rest on the nightstand, and turned off the lights.

Sleep came quickly.

Across town, Amelia’s alarm buzzed at 6:30 AM sharp. She groaned softly, stretching beneath her covers before reaching over to silence it. Miso, her cat, was already awake, perched on the windowsill and watching the birds outside with twitching curiosity.

Amelia sat up, rubbing her eyes and smiling to herself. Today was the big day — the final meeting with Clara and James. Everything had to be perfect.

She fed Miso, brewed a strong cup of coffee, and opened her planner. Her checklist was already half-complete, but she reviewed it again just to be sure. Outfit? Ready. Notes? Reviewed. Emergency kit? Packed.

Her blush pink blazer hung on the closet door, paired with a crisp white blouse and black slacks. She laid out her lucky necklace — a small silver heart her grandmother had given her — and placed it beside her earrings.

As the coffee brewed, she stood by the window, watching the morning light spill across the city. Her heart fluttered with nerves, but also excitement. She loved this part — the anticipation, the preparation, the quiet belief that today could be the start of something beautiful.

She took a sip of coffee and smiled.

Let the day begin.

Amelia stood in front of her bathroom mirror, brushing out her curls and humming softly to herself. The morning sun had fully risen now, casting a warm glow across her apartment. Miso had settled back into his usual nap spot on the windowsill, tail flicking occasionally as birds chirped outside.

Amelia moved around her kitchen in soft slippers, still dressed in her pajamas. The clock read 8:00 AM, and the apartment was quiet except for the gentle hum of the coffee maker and Miso’s impatient meows. She poured his food into the bowl, added a splash of water, and gave him a playful scratch behind the ears.

“Breakfast for the king,” she said with a sleepy smile.

Her own breakfast was simple — scrambled eggs, toast, and a few slices of avocado. She ate slowly, sipping her coffee and mentally reviewing the day ahead. The meeting with Clara and James was at noon, which gave her plenty of time to get ready. No need to rush.

After breakfast, she curled up on the couch with her planner and a blanket. The TV played a light romantic comedy in the background, but she wasn’t really watching. Her mind was on the checklist: seating charts, vendor confirmations, the prenup draft with her notes. Everything was in place.

She paused the movie and picked up her phone, scrolling through Instagram. Her feed was filled with wedding inspiration — floral arches, handwritten vows, couples dancing under string lights. She double-tapped a few posts, saved one or two for later, then glanced at the time.

10:00 AM..

Meanwhile, Anthony stirred awake in his hotel room. It was 10:00 AM, and the blackout curtains kept the room dim and quiet. He sat up, reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand, and drank the rest in one long sip.

He showered, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, and reviewed the prenup file once more. Everything was in order. He didn’t need breakfast — the in-flight meal had been enough. He felt sharp, focused, and ready.

Amelia slipped into her outfit, a blush pink blazer, crisp white blouse, and black slacks she’d laid out the night before. Her lucky necklace rested just above her collarbone, a small silver heart that always made her feel grounded. She added a touch of mascara, a swipe of rose-colored lip gloss, and gave herself a final once-over.

“Okay,” she whispered to her reflection. “Let’s make magic.”

Her planner bag was already packed. She double-checked the contents: seating charts, vendor contacts, her emergency kit, and the prenup draft with her notes. She tucked in a small bottle of hand sanitizer and a granola bar just in case the meeting ran long.

By 11:20 AM, Amelia was out the door, The meeting venue was about thirty minutes from her apartment, and she liked being early not just to settle in, but to feel the space before everyone else arrived.

The air was crisp, the sun gentle, and her heart fluttered with a mix of nerves and excitement. She ordered a ride, slid into the back seat, and watched the city pass by as she mentally rehearsed her talking points. Today wasn’t just about logistics — it was about love, and making sure Clara’s vision came to life.

By 11:45 AM, Amelia stepped out of the car, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. She had expected the usual weekday traffic, but the roads had been surprisingly clear, and she arrived five minutes earlier than planned. That was fine by her she liked being early.

The building was quiet, modern, and sunlit. Amelia walked through the lobby with calm confidence, greeted the receptionist, and was directed to the meeting room. She entered, took a slow breath, and scanned the space. Everything was neatly arranged the kind of setting that made her feel instantly at ease.

She chose a seat near the window, placed her planner bag beside her, and pulled out her notes. Her fingers brushed the edge of the prenup draft, her pink annotations still visible. She glanced at the time. 11:20 AM. Perfect.

Meanwhile, Anthony was just finishing up in his hotel room. At 11:35 AM, he stepped into the waiting car, briefcase in hand, and gave the driver a nod. The ride was smooth, just twenty minutes to the venue. He didn’t speak, didn’t scroll through his phone — just stared ahead, mentally reviewing the meeting.

By 11:55 AM, he arrived at the building, stepped out of the car, and walked through the lobby with quiet precision.