Ela's reflection stared back at her from the mirror—nervous brown eyes, crimson lipstick, and a long satin dress that hugged her frame more elegantly. It was a long dress. Her dark brown hair was left down, with just a few strands tied slightly. She smoothed the shimmering black fabric, inhaling sharply. She still couldn't believe she'd agreed to this.
Her older sister, Elena, was invited to a formal party but she had to leave to another country and asked her to go there.
"It's just a party," Elena had insisted over the phone, somewhere between boarding gates on her way to another continent. "Just go to the party and stay a bit atleast. You can leave after that."
Simple. Right.
Ela tugged at the clasp of a diamond bracelet, on loan from her sister's closet, like half the outfit, before stepping out of the small apartment she and Elena shared. They have always been close as sisters, and with Elena leaving awhile, it was a little difficult to pretend she wasn't reluctant to attend such an event. Her sister had a few rich acquaintances but she wasn't used to going to formal parties.
The grand event was held in one of the tallest buildings downtown, its glass walls glinting like a beacon of wealth and elegance. A luxury car line curled around the entrance, but Ela took the bus, and walked the last several blocks in heels that her feet already resented. She flashed the digital invitation at the doorman, who barely glanced before letting her inside.
Light spilled everywhere: gold chandeliers, polished marble floors, champagne glasses, and many people attending the party. Classical music drifted from a string quartet on the balcony. Elena would have slayed here, confident, charismatic, the center of a perfect crowd.
Meanwhile, she was waiting until she could leave.
She wandered through clusters of glittering dresses and sharp suits, searching for the event coordinator Elena said would confirm her presence. But halfway through the ballroom, the party seemed to become even worse…because there he was.
Alan. Her ex.
His hair was slicked back, suit tailored to perfection, just as he always liked it. He turned, mid-conversation, and his stare found her there, at the party.
"Ela?" his voice chased her before his steps did.
Not tonight. Not ever. He had cheated on her, she broke up with him because of that.
She spun on her heel, weaving through the crowd, pushing past waiters and startled guests. He called her name again, but she ignored that he was going to attempt to meet with her. She shoved through a door she recognized from the floor plan Elena had shown her, a hallway leading toward the elevators.
The music dulled as the door swung shut behind her. Finally—silence.
Or so she thought.
Heavy footsteps pounded from the opposite end of the corridor.
Before she could react, someone collided with her, strong arms wrapping around her waist, slamming her against his solid chest. Ela gasped, hands pushing at a suit jacket she didn't recognize. He smelled faintly of smoke and rain.
"Don't move," he whispered, voice low and rough. "Don't even think about leaving."
Ela didn't know what to do, even though she knew she should fight, run, anything. But his grip tightened, one hand sliding to her upper arm, anchoring her in place.
"What—who are you?" she stammered.
His eyes flicked toward the far end of the hallway, muscles tensing beneath the fabric of his dress shirt. He looked like a man on the edge, not drunk, just a little playful, but dangerous. He was from the party, because he was in a suit, like the other guests.
Everything in her urged her to scream.
Then the door behind them burst open.
"Ela!" Alan's voice.
Recognition. Shock. Confusion. Mixed into one explosive second.
He rushed toward them, grabbing Ela by the shoulders and pulling her behind him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped at the stranger.
The mysterious man stepped forward, expression shifting, smooth, charming, controlled within the span of a breath. "Relax," he said, placing his hand casually in his pocket. "I'm her fiancé."
The hallway was left in quietness after he said that.
He must have figured that Alan was her ex and that he was trying to argue with her.
Alan looked at her sharply, like the word was a blade slicing through his composure. His eyes darkened, jealousy exposing him more honestly than his suave mask ever did.
"You're engaged?" he demanded. "To him?"
He went over to her and grasped her again, embracing her just as he turned away before keeping her near him.
From the other hallway of the building, a group of guys ran past, searching for someone, but they believed she and the stranger who held her were a couple and left without asking about him.
"She didn't want to announce it yet," the stranger continued smoothly, sliding a possessive arm around her waist again. The pressure of his hand didn't feel affectionate. It felt like a warning. "But now you know."
Alan's jaw clenched as he took in the scene, the height difference, the stranger's polished dominance, the implication that Ela had moved on fully, dramatically, without him.
"Fine," he forced out. "Congratulations." the reply was fake. "Both of you."
He turned with rigid shoulders and walked away. The door clicked shut behind him.
Ela sagged a little, fear still clawing, breath trembling. The man loosened his hold only a fraction, but enough for her to notice something alarming.
His fingers, covered in red.
Blood soaked through his cuff, darkening the white fabric near his ribs.
"You're hurt," she whispered, instinct kicking past fear. "You need help—"
"Stop." He caught her wrist, grip iron-tight. His eyes met with her glance, gray, fierce, with an intense stare. "No one can know I was here."
"But you're bleeding!"
He forced a sharp breath, jaw tightening. "It's not my first time."
That wasn't comforting.
He lifted his hand, brushing away her concern almost mockingly. Yet beneath it, something weary lingered, like he was running because he was hiding something.
Ela shook her head, anger rising with her pounding pulse. "You can't just threaten me and expect me to—"
His gaze softened, not by much, but it seemed he was hesitant to admit. "I didn't choose this," he murmured. "You were just in the wrong place."
Then he released her.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, her breath still caged, his eyes flicking as if memorizing her face.
"Don't tell anyone," he repeated, stepping backward, moving with the fluidity of someone trained to disappear.
The door at the end of the corridor creaked open. A flash of movement, then he was gone. Swift, silent, he left through the building.
Ela remained frozen, fingers pressed against the spot where his hands had held her. The blood on her dress was still there, from him.
Elena had sent her to mingle with rich investors and powerful leaders, not to be cornered by a bleeding stranger running from unseen enemies.
The muffled music from the ballroom echoed like a reminder that life, moments ago, was normal. Safe. Ordinary.
And that he was gone.
Ela didn't realize she was shaking until she wrapped her arms around herself, backing toward the emergency stairs instead of the other way towards the party. She needed to leave. Now.
She had to leave from the party.