The city shimmered in the distance, bathed in the gold of early morning. Clara sat by the window of Adrian's penthouse, her fingers wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee. Down below, life moved in its usual chaos cars honking, people rushing, the world spinning too fast. But up here, the world was quiet.
Adrian's world.
The past few weeks had changed everything. Their arguments had softened into laughter; his sharp edges had dulled around her presence. He wasn't the man who'd barked orders and treated her like an inconvenience. Now, he lingered in the kitchen longer than necessary, made her coffee the way she liked it too sweet, with a splash of cinnamon and sometimes hummed while he worked, unaware that she was watching.
She still couldn't believe it.
He had let her in.
"Big day today," his voice came from behind her, smooth but laced with a hint of nerves. She turned. Adrian stood there in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair slightly messy his version of casual.
"Your interview?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "First one in months. They want to talk about the new album… and probably about us."
Her stomach flipped. Us. The word felt dangerous, fragile. Like a secret she wasn't ready to share with the world yet.
"You don't have to answer anything you don't want to," she said.
Adrian gave a small, crooked smile. "You think the media listens to that kind of advice?"
"No," she admitted with a smile. "But I do."
Something in his expression softened. He walked closer, leaned on the counter, and studied her face. "You always know how to calm me down."
"That's because you let yourself get worked up," she teased.
"I'm a performer. It's part of the job," he said with mock seriousness, then his tone lowered. "But you... you're the quiet before the music starts."
Clara's heart stuttered. He said it so easily, but the weight of the words hit her deep. She looked down, trying to hide the blush creeping up her neck. "That's poetic for 8 a.m."
"I'm full of surprises."
They both laughed a sound that felt natural now, easy.
For a few minutes, they just stood there, the silence between them warm and full. Clara didn't realize she was still smiling until Adrian reached out, brushing his thumb over her cheek. The gesture was simple, yet intimate enough to make her forget to breathe.
"You should come with me today," he said suddenly.
"To the interview?"
"Yeah. Just… be there. I don't care if they see you."
Her pulse quickened. "Adrian, that's"
"Crazy?" he finished for her. "Maybe. But I'm tired of pretending. You've been there through the worst of it. You deserve to be there for the best."
His honesty disarmed her every time.
She hesitated. "What if it backfires?"
He smiled, faint but genuine. "Then we face it. Together."
The word together hung between them like a promise.
The studio was colder than she expected. Cameras, lights, and people moving too fast it was a whole different world, one Adrian moved through with effortless charm.
But she could see the tension in his hands, the way he flexed his fingers as if trying to shake off invisible nerves.
When the host greeted him on stage, Clara stood off to the side, heart pounding. She watched the confident, famous version of Adrian take over smooth, witty, captivating. Yet she could tell when his smile wavered just slightly.
And then it came.
"So, Adrian," the host said, "the world's been buzzing about the woman who's been spotted with you recently. Care to tell us who she is?"
The audience chuckled. Adrian's gaze flickered, just once, to the corner of the room where Clara stood.
Clara held her breath.
He could have denied it. He could have laughed it off like every other rumor.
Instead, he said calmly, "She's someone important to me."
The audience gasped, cameras flashed, and Clara's heart nearly stopped.
The interviewer leaned forward, intrigued. "Important how?"
Adrian's smile returned, but this time it wasn't the one he gave to the public. It was softer, almost vulnerable. "Let's just say she reminds me why I started singing in the first place."
The crowd melted into applause. But Clara she couldn't move. Her chest felt tight, her eyes stung. She wasn't used to being seen like this not as a fan, not as an assistant, but as someone who mattered.
When the show ended, she waited backstage, palms clammy. Adrian walked off stage, flashing his usual grin to the crew, but as soon as he saw her, the mask fell away.
"So," he said, coming closer, "did I do okay?"
Clara shook her head, smiling through the rush of emotion. "You did more than okay. You were… honest."
He reached for her hand. "You okay?"
"I should be asking you that."
He squeezed gently. "I meant what I said."
She looked up at him, eyes shining. "I know."
For a moment, they stood in the quiet of the dressing room, the chaos outside fading. Adrian brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his voice low.
"You changed me, Clara."
Her throat tightened. "I didn't do anything."
"You did everything," he said. "You saw me when I wasn't worth seeing."
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she laughed softly. "You were always worth seeing. You just didn't believe it yet."
He leaned closer then slow, hesitant, almost asking permission and when she didn't pull away, his lips met hers.
It wasn't the kind of kiss written for tabloids or flashing cameras. It was real steady, full of everything they hadn't said aloud.
When they finally broke apart, Adrian rested his forehead against hers.
"I don't know where this is going," he whispered, "but I don't want to lose it."
"You won't," Clara promised.
Outside, the world was already spinning with headlines and theories. But inside that room, time had stopped two hearts finally moving in rhythm, no longer worlds apart.