The tension that hung in the air between Samantha and Luke after the gallery night had softened into a quiet comfort. They texted each other daily now—little jokes, sweet good mornings, and late-night thoughts that made them feel closer, even when apart.
But something still lingered unsaid. Something neither of them was brave enough to touch.
Samantha stood in front of her closet, holding up two different dresses—one a deep emerald green, the other a pale blush. Both were gorgeous. Both could send a message.
But what message did she want to send tonight?
After a long week of near-misses and stolen glances, Luke had invited her to a rooftop charity gala hosted by his architecture firm. It wasn't their first event together, but it felt like their first… real step into something deeper.
She chose the emerald.
The rooftop sparkled under a dome of fairy lights and soft jazz. The skyline of the city spread behind them, twinkling like stars had descended to earth.
Samantha stepped onto the rooftop and immediately felt eyes turn toward her. She spotted Luke near the bar, dressed in a sleek black suit, his hair perfectly styled but effortlessly tousled in that way that made her heart skip.
He turned—and his eyes locked on her.
For a beat, the world seemed to blur around them.
"You look…" Luke paused as she walked up to him. "Unreal."
"You clean up nicely yourself," she said, smiling.
They clinked champagne glasses and sipped in sync, both trying to ignore how their hands brushed and lingered.
The event was buzzing, a mixture of laughter, conversation, and gentle clinks of crystal glasses. Samantha was introduced to Luke's colleagues, and though she felt slightly out of place, Luke's subtle touches—his hand resting briefly on her back, the way he leaned toward her when she spoke—kept her grounded.
At one point, they found themselves away from the crowd, standing at the edge of the rooftop looking down at the city.
"It's strange," Luke murmured, "how small everything looks from up here. Like all the problems down there… they can't quite reach us."
Samantha looked over at him, the wind brushing her hair softly. "Maybe that's what makes this moment special. We're just… above it all."
He turned to her slowly, a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't want this to be just a moment."
Her breath caught.
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned, checked it, and his face tightened for a moment.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"It's my father," he said. "He's… persistent about something."
She nodded, though she didn't press. The shadows in Luke's family life were still unclear to her, and he'd only mentioned his father in vague, bitter fragments.
"I'll call him back later," he said quickly. "Tonight's about us."
After the gala, they took a cab back toward Samantha's place, but neither of them wanted the night to end. So they stopped at an all-night café on the edge of town—a quiet spot with twinkle lights and warm pastries.
They sat across from each other, trading bites of chocolate croissants and laughing about nothing in particular.
"You know," Luke said between sips of espresso, "I used to think love was something… dramatic. Intense. All-consuming."
"And now?"
He looked at her, seriously. "Now I think it's this. These little moments that sneak up on you and make you realize you're happier than you've been in years."
Samantha swallowed hard. "That's dangerously close to a confession."
He smiled. "Maybe I'm done playing it safe."
She looked down, suddenly unsure how to respond. Her heart pounded. "Luke…"
"I know we've both got our baggage. But when I'm with you, I don't feel like I'm carrying it alone."
His voice was soft but certain. "I don't know what's going to happen. But I want to keep finding out—with you."
Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. Not from sadness, but from the overwhelming vulnerability of it all.
"You're not alone, Luke," she whispered. "And you're not the only one who's scared."
Later, when he walked her to her door, their fingers brushed and then intertwined.
She turned to face him on the steps.
"I had a perfect night," she whispered.
"So did I," he said, voice low.
Then—finally, finally—he leaned in.
Their lips met, soft and warm, like the closing of a book and the start of a new chapter all at once. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't showy. It was just… right.
When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, eyes still closed.
But then she noticed something.
A black SUV, parked across the street. Its engine running. Headlights off.
Luke followed her gaze, his body instantly tensing.
"Do you know them?" she asked, instinctively stepping closer to him.
"No," he said, jaw tight. "But I have a bad feeling."
He quickly guided her inside and locked the door behind them.
"They've been following me," he said under his breath. "For weeks. I thought it was just paranoia. But now…"
He looked out through the blinds.
The SUV was gone.
Vanished.
The tension that hung in the air between Samantha and Luke after the gallery night had softened into a quiet comfort. They texted each other daily now—little jokes, sweet good mornings, and late-night thoughts that made them feel closer, even when apart.
But something still lingered unsaid. Something neither of them was brave enough to touch.
Samantha stood in front of her closet, holding up two different dresses—one a deep emerald green, the other a pale blush. Both were gorgeous. Both could send a message.
But what message did she want to send tonight?
After a long week of near-misses and stolen glances, Luke had invited her to a rooftop charity gala hosted by his architecture firm. It wasn't their first event together, but it felt like their first… real step into something deeper.
She chose the emerald.
The rooftop sparkled under a dome of fairy lights and soft jazz. The skyline of the city spread behind them, twinkling like stars had descended to earth.
Samantha stepped onto the rooftop and immediately felt eyes turn toward her. She spotted Luke near the bar, dressed in a sleek black suit, his hair perfectly styled but effortlessly tousled in that way that made her heart skip.
He turned—and his eyes locked on her.
For a beat, the world seemed to blur around them.
"You look…" Luke paused as she walked up to him. "Unreal."
"You clean up nicely yourself," she said, smiling.
They clinked champagne glasses and sipped in sync, both trying to ignore how their hands brushed and lingered.
The event was buzzing, a mixture of laughter, conversation, and gentle clinks of crystal glasses. Samantha was introduced to Luke's colleagues, and though she felt slightly out of place, Luke's subtle touches—his hand resting briefly on her back, the way he leaned toward her when she spoke—kept her grounded.
At one point, they found themselves away from the crowd, standing at the edge of the rooftop looking down at the city.
"It's strange," Luke murmured, "how small everything looks from up here. Like all the problems down there… they can't quite reach us."
Samantha looked over at him, the wind brushing her hair softly. "Maybe that's what makes this moment special. We're just… above it all."
He turned to her slowly, a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't want this to be just a moment."
Her breath caught.
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned, checked it, and his face tightened for a moment.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"It's my father," he said. "He's… persistent about something."
She nodded, though she didn't press. The shadows in Luke's family life were still unclear to her, and he'd only mentioned his father in vague, bitter fragments.
"I'll call him back later," he said quickly. "Tonight's about us."
After the gala, they took a cab back toward Samantha's place, but neither of them wanted the night to end. So they stopped at an all-night café on the edge of town—a quiet spot with twinkle lights and warm pastries.
They sat across from each other, trading bites of chocolate croissants and laughing about nothing in particular.
"You know," Luke said between sips of espresso, "I used to think love was something… dramatic. Intense. All-consuming."
"And now?"
He looked at her, seriously. "Now I think it's this. These little moments that sneak up on you and make you realize you're happier than you've been in years."
Samantha swallowed hard. "That's dangerously close to a confession."
He smiled. "Maybe I'm done playing it safe."
She looked down, suddenly unsure how to respond. Her heart pounded. "Luke…"
"I know we've both got our baggage. But when I'm with you, I don't feel like I'm carrying it alone."
His voice was soft but certain. "I don't know what's going to happen. But I want to keep finding out—with you."
Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. Not from sadness, but from the overwhelming vulnerability of it all.
"You're not alone, Luke," she whispered. "And you're not the only one who's scared."
Later, when he walked her to her door, their fingers brushed and then intertwined.
She turned to face him on the steps.
"I had a perfect night," she whispered.
"So did I," he said, voice low.
Then—finally, finally—he leaned in.
Their lips met, soft and warm, like the closing of a book and the start of a new chapter all at once. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't showy. It was just… right.
When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, eyes still closed.
But then she noticed something.
A black SUV, parked across the street. Its engine running. Headlights off.
Luke followed her gaze, his body instantly tensing.
"Do you know them?" she asked, instinctively stepping closer to him.
"No," he said, jaw tight. "But I have a bad feeling."
He quickly guided her inside and locked the door behind them.
"They've been following me," he said under his breath. "For weeks. I thought it was just paranoia. But now…"
He looked out through the blinds.
The SUV was gone.
Vanished.