Jia's POV:
The moment I stepped into the party, the soft thrum of music and the gleam of crystal lights wrapped around me. It wasn't crowded—just perfectly poised, the kind of gathering where every laugh sounded expensive and every gesture carried quiet elegance.
Across the room I spotted Adrian, talking to someone near the grand piano. And, no lies, he looked almost angelic in an all-white tuxedo, the lights catching in his dark hair. I waited for him to turn so I could say something clever.
Instead, a graceful woman approached me."You must be Miss Jia," she said with a polite smile.
"Yes," I replied, a little unsure.
"Master was waiting for you. Please come with me."
Master? For a moment it felt like I'd stepped through time into a nineteenth-century novel—Master, Madam, and all.
She led me through the softly lit hall to Adrian. Without a pause she announced, "Master, Madam Jia is here."
Adrian turned. The teasing glint I expected wasn't there; instead, his expression was warm, almost… different.
"You look beautiful," he said simply, a genuine smile lighting his face.
Heat crept up my neck. "Don't try me, Adrian," I teased, giving his shoulder a light tap.
He only chuckled, eyes lingering on me just a second too long.
"Come, meet my parents," he said, casually slipping his hand around mine. The warmth of his fingers sent a quick, surprising spark through me.
We wove through the small clusters of guests until he stopped before a distinguished couple."Mom, Dad—this is Jia, my classmate and friend."
They turned with welcoming smiles. My breath caught.His father was none other than Dr. Andrew Patrova, one of the most celebrated surgeons in L.A., and his mother, Mrs. Elara Patrova, was the formidable chair of Patrova Medicines.
I managed a polite greeting while my mind spun. Of all families… why did I come here looking like I just walked out of a campus café?
"Hey—lost somewhere?" Adrian's low voice brushed close to my ear, warm and private despite the glittering room.
"I'm fine," I whispered back, though my heartbeat disagreed.
His thumb traced a light, reassuring circle against my knuckles before he released my hand.And just like that, the party's noise faded for a heartbeat, leaving only the quiet hum between us.
Adrian's parents drifted off to greet another couple, leaving us beside the tall French doors that opened to a moon-lit terrace. The soft night air carried the faint scent of jasmine.
"Need a breather?" Adrian asked, tilting his head toward the balcony.
I nodded, grateful for the escape.
Outside, the city stretched below like a carpet of stars. The party's music softened to a distant hum. Adrian leaned on the railing, the silver light catching the sharp lines of his tuxedo.
"So," he said, glancing sideways, "was it as boring as you feared?"
"Maybe a little less," I admitted with a small smile. "Though I'm not used to people calling you Master."
He laughed quietly. "Old family staff. I keep telling them to drop it."
The sound of his laugh settled something warm in my chest. I wrapped my arms around myself against the breeze, and without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
"You don't have to—" I began.
"I want to," he said softly.
For a moment, we just stood there, the moonlight pooling around us. I felt the weight of his gaze and dared to meet it. His eyes held a question he didn't speak.
"Adrian," I murmured, suddenly aware of how close we were.
He gave a small, almost shy smile. "I like it when you say my name like that."
The quiet stretched, not awkward but charged—like the air right before a summer storm.
From inside, someone called his name, breaking the spell. He exhaled and straightened.
"We should probably go back," he said, though his eyes lingered on me a heartbeat longer.
I nodded, clutching the jacket a little tighter, trying to slow the flutter in my chest.
Adrian offered his arm as we stepped back inside, the soft strains of a slow melody replacing the earlier upbeat music. The lights were dimmer now, warm and golden.
"Dance with me?" he asked, voice low enough that only I could hear.
I hesitated for a breath, then slid my hand into his. His palm was warm, steady. He led me to the small dance floor, and we moved into an easy rhythm—nothing showy, just a quiet sway.
The world blurred into soft light and distant laughter. I felt the subtle strength in his hand at my back, the calm confidence in the way he guided each step.
"You're a better dancer than you claimed," I whispered.
He smiled, eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe I just needed the right partner."
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I didn't look away. The music wrapped around us like a secret, and for those few minutes, it felt as though the party—and everything else—had faded to a hush.
When the song ended, he didn't release my hand right away. Instead, he leaned closer and said, almost a promise, "Let me take you home later."
I could only nod, still lost in the quiet thrum of the moment.
It was a little awkward as I was just looking outside, and he was sometimes looking at me, and I could tell every time he looked at me, he smiled, maybe mocking me in his mind.
"You didn't wish me yet," he said, breaking the silence. And then I remember, yes indeed, I didn't. And now it's even more awkward.
But mustering up the courage, I grabbed my purse and took a box out of it. I handed it over to Adrian and said, "Happy Birthday, Mr. Angelic voice."
"Thank you," he said with a little serious tone, but never shifting his eyes from me.
He took the box and opened it. "It's a watch," he said while looking at it with little amused eyes.
He was almost tearful when he noticed the engraving inside the dial. I remember he once told me that he loves music and wanted to be an artist, but his parents never allowed him to do so.
"Keep the beat alive," he read through the engraving of the dial.
"You remember it," he said while shifting his attention towards me. "It's nothing, it's just come out of nowhere," I said to shrug off his words.
He didn't stretch, but instead he removed his watch and wore the one I gave him.
"It's looking nice," he said, and started driving.
The ride back was quiet except for the soft hum of the car.Adrian kept sneaking glances at the watch, a small smile tugging at his lips.I pretended not to notice, my own heart oddly light.
When I finally reached home, the house was warm with a faint glow from the living room.Ama sat on the couch, legs tucked under her, Vihaan beside her.They looked up together when I opened the door.
"Hey," Vihaan greeted, rising to his feet. "Just making sure she's okay."Ama gave me a small, reassuring smile.
"Thanks for…staying," I said, surprised at how natural it felt.
He nodded, eyes lingering on Ama a heartbeat longer before slipping past me toward the door."Good night," he said softly and left.
The lock clicked behind him, and a quiet settled over the room—not empty, just…different.