The glass doors of Stone Enterprises slid open, and Elena stepped out into the stream of the city. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows between the skyscrapers, the air thick with car horns, chatter, and the rhythmic hum of footsteps on pavement.
She tucked her phone against her ear as she merged into the crowd.
"Yes, Mama, the interview went fine," she said, her voice steady though her heart still carried the rush of the meeting. "No, I don't know yet. They'll call me if I pass the first stage."
A group of teenagers brushed past her, laughing loudly. One of them said, "Man, I told you he wouldn't wait for us." Their voices faded into the distance.
Elena adjusted the strap of her handbag, weaving carefully through the mass of people. A man behind her shouted into his own phone, "Tell them I'm not signing anything until I see the numbers!" The frustration in his voice cracked through the air before dissolving into the crowd's noise.
"Yes, Mama. I'll eat, don't worry," Elena continued softly. Her tone was patient, but her eyes scanned the streetlights flickering to life. She waited at a crossing as cars roared past, the whoosh of engines mixing with the faint wail of a siren blocks away.
"I'm meeting Marissa now. Yes, I'll be home after," she added before ending the call with a small sigh.
The walk wasn't long, but the press of the city always made it feel endless. At the corner, a bus hissed as it pulled up, releasing a flood of passengers. Elena slipped around them and finally pushed open the door of a small but elegant restaurant tucked between two high-rise buildings.
The warm clink of cutlery and low hum of conversation washed over her. The air carried the aroma of roasted garlic and butter, softened by the faint notes of fresh basil.
"Elena!" A hand shot up from a table near the window. Marissa, her longtime friend, was already seated. Her hair was styled in soft waves, and her lipstick was a bold red that only she could pull off with ease.
Elena smiled, making her way over. The tension in her shoulders loosened as she slid into the chair across from her friend.
"You're late," Marissa teased, raising a brow.
"The city slowed me down." Elena set her bag down and let out a small laugh. "Besides, I'm only late by five minutes."
"Five minutes is five minutes," Marissa replied, grinning. "So, tell me—how was it? Did the famous Mr. Stone himself glare at you?"
Before Elena could answer, a waiter approached their table, his posture impeccable and his smile professional. "Good evening, ladies. Can I take your order?"
Elena glanced at the menu briefly before closing it. "I'll have the grilled salmon with lemon butter sauce… and a glass of white wine."
"And for you, miss?" the waiter asked, turning to Marissa.
"The filet mignon, medium rare, with truffle mashed potatoes," Marissa said smoothly. "Sparkling water, please."
The waiter jotted it down. "Will that be all?"
"Yes, thank you," Elena said with a polite nod.
Once he left, Marissa leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "Now. Tell me everything."
Elena hesitated, tracing the rim of her empty glass. "It was… professional. Strict. You know how these corporate interviews go."
Marissa studied her for a moment. "But you saw him, didn't you?"
Elena blinked. "Who?"
"Damian Stone." Marissa's voice dropped conspiratorially. "Everyone in this city knows his face. Tall, sharp, cold as ice. Don't tell me you didn't notice."
Elena chuckled, shaking her head. "I bumped into someone earlier in the lobby, but I didn't think twice about it. I was more worried about not tripping over my own feet."
"That was him," Marissa said, pointing at her dramatically. "I'd bet my last paycheck on it. And you, my friend, walked straight into him."
Elena rolled her eyes. "If it was him, he didn't say much. Probably forgot me the second I walked away."
Marissa smirked knowingly. "Men like him don't forget, Elena. They notice everything. Especially when someone doesn't swoon at their feet."
Their waiter returned briefly, placing a basket of warm bread between them. The scent of rosemary drifted up, making Elena's stomach grumble softly.
Marissa broke a piece of bread and handed it to her. "So, what's next? Are you planning to take this job if they call you back?"
Elena nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "If they offer it, yes. It's stable. It pays well. That's all I'm looking for."
"And romance?" Marissa asked with a mischievous grin.
Elena laughed, shaking her head. "You know that's not my priority."
"It should be," Marissa countered. "You're in your late twenties, Elena. Work is important, yes, but life doesn't end in the office. You deserve someone who looks at you and sees more than deadlines."
Elena sipped from her water, avoiding her friend's gaze. "Romance complicates things."
"Romance makes things real," Marissa said softly, her teasing fading into sincerity. "Don't shut yourself off."
Before Elena could respond, the waiter returned with their meals, placing the plates down with care. The salmon glistened under the dim light, the buttery aroma making her mouth water. Marissa's steak sat perfectly seared, juices pooling beside the mashed potatoes laced with truffle.
"Enjoy your meal," the waiter said before retreating.
Marissa cut into her steak, her expression smug again. "One day, Elena. You'll meet someone who makes you forget all these walls you've built."
Elena picked up her fork, her smile faint but wry. "Maybe. But until then, I'll focus on what I can control."
Outside, a car horn blared, followed by the distant rumble of a passing train. Inside, laughter rang from another table where two businessmen were discussing a deal over drinks. The world moved on around them, yet in that corner of the restaurant, the air lingered between Elena and Marissa, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.