Cielo's POV
That night, I couldn't sleep. Not even for a minute.
I kept replaying his face in my mind—those sharp eyes, that calm voice, the warmth of his jacket still wrapped around me. There was something about him, something magnetic and inexplicably kind. I didn't know who he truly was, but I couldn't stop thinking about him.
I sighed, lying in bed, wide awake.
"I hope I meet him again," I whispered to myself.
"Meet who?" Hazel's voice startled me from the next room.
My heart skipped. "Nobody," I replied too quickly. "Just... a good man."
"Mmm-hmm," she said, stepping into my doorway with crossed arms. "I smell something fishy."
Before I could answer, she continued, "How did you even get home with all this rain?"
"I had my umbrella this morning," I lied, avoiding her eyes.
She narrowed hers at me, not convinced. "And your gown? What happened to it?"
I glanced down at the wine-stained fabric hanging over a chair and tried to shrug it off. "Nothing major—just a spill. White wine."
Hazel raised an eyebrow. "White wine, huh?" Then she grinned. "Cielo…"
"Hm?"
"Were you on a date tonight?"
I shook my head, laughing softly. "No, not a date."
I wanted so badly to tell her everything—that I met the most handsome man I'd ever seen, that he walked me to a black luxury car, that he made me feel safe without saying much at all. But knowing Hazel, she'd never let it go. She'd tease me to the moon and back.
Instead, I changed the subject.
"I'm going to cook. You want something?"
She followed me to the kitchen. "You're avoiding my question," she said with a sly smile.
We ate together quietly for a while, the rain still tapping gently against the windows. Just as I was starting to feel more at ease, Hazel put down her spoon dramatically.
"I can't believe my best friend is dating and didn't tell me," she said, feigning offense. "What about me? I'm supposed to live through your romantic adventures."
I groaned, "Hazel, please. I'm not dating anyone."
"I don't believe you." She leaned closer, eyes gleaming. "And besides, you said something earlier—'I'm not even sure I'll meet him again.' Meet who, hmm?"
My face heated up. I'd let it slip.
"I was talking to myself," I said quickly, brushing her off.
To distract her, I asked, "How are things going with Ryu?"
Her expression shifted. She looked down at her plate. "We're fine, I guess. It's just... it's been a week. He hasn't picked up any of my calls."
Concern filled me. "I hope he's okay."
She offered a small, forced smile. "Yeah, that's what we all hope."
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, and for a moment, the teasing stopped. We sat quietly two friends, each holding something unspoken.