Nyx looked at her friend—one of the first people who treated her as more than a tool.
Alden Draven.
At first, she had misjudged him.
A playboy.
A careless man who toyed with women.
But the truth unraveled slowly: he was nothing like that.
He was broken too—fractured inside like her—yet he carried himself with a brightness she couldn't understand.
She hadn't wanted to trust anyone.
And yet, time betrayed her resolve.
His warmth pulled her closer until the cold walls she made around her began to crack.
Sometimes it felt like even the world conspired to push her closer to him…
… as if fate itself demanded it.
And she knew what fate was: twisted, merciless.
It would make her trust… only to shatter her again.
Expectations always led to disappointment. She had repeated that to herself for years.
And still—foolishly—she had begun to expect.
Something she was never allowed.
Everything had been normal.
Until the lift.
Until she saw him today.
She didn't know why…
