(Elara POV)
The week passes in a blur.
Meetings. Numbers. Emails. Quiet nods in hallways. Long hours where I keep my head down and my thoughts locked tightly in place. By the time Friday arrives, it feels less like relief and more like a pause I didn't realize I was holding my breath for.
I leave the office early.
There's no unfinished work, no reason to stay behind, and for once I don't feel guilty about walking out before the lights dim. I head straight to the hospital.
Mom is already resting when I arrive.
The nurse tells me her treatment went as expected, that she'll be groggy for a while. I slip into the room quietly and sit beside her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. She looks smaller like this. Fragile in a way that makes my chest ache.
I talk to her anyway.
About my week. About work. About nothing important and everything at once. I tell her I'm okay, even though I'm not sure if that's entirely true yet. I press a kiss to her forehead before I leave, lingering just a second longer than necessary.
By the time I get home, the sun has dipped low and the apartment is filled with warm light.
Kyla is… vibrating.
That's the only way to describe it.
She stands in the middle of the living room with her hands on her hips, eyes sparkling, a grin stretching across her face like she's been holding onto a secret all day.
I stop short. "Why do you look like that?"
"Like what?" she asks innocently.
"Like you're about to explode."
She gasps dramatically. "Did you really think I would forget?"
"Forget… what?"
She stares at me for a moment, then throws her hands in the air. "It's your birthday!"
My brain stalls.
"Oh."
"Oh?" she repeats. "Elara Moore, you turn twenty-four today and you're acting like it's just another Friday."
I blink, genuinely stunned. "I didn't even realize."
She softens instantly. "I figured."
I smile faintly. "Thank you for remembering. But honestly, I don't think I'm in the mood to do anything. I just want to shower and rest."
"Oh no," she says firmly. "Absolutely not."
"Kyla—"
"Not every day you turn twenty-four," she cuts in. "Get dressed. We're going out."
"I don't have anything to wear."
She laughs. "That's not your problem. That's mine."
Before I can protest, she's already pulling me toward her bedroom.
Her closet is… overwhelming.
Rows of dresses. Colors. Fabrics. Shoes lined neatly like they belong in a boutique. I freeze at the doorway, suddenly very aware of how out of place I feel.
She doesn't give me time to think.
"This," she says, pulling out a dress and holding it up against me. It's navy blue, soft, off-shoulder, elegant in a way that makes my stomach twist.
"There is no way I'm wearing that," I say immediately.
"Yes, you are."
"I've never worn anything like this."
"You're wearing it tonight."
"We're going to a pub," she adds cheerfully.
"A pub?" I echo. "Why am I finding this out in pieces?"
She laughs. "Because it's more fun this way."
I shower while she hums loudly from the other room. I shave my legs, dry my hair, and sit obediently in front of her while she works her magic.
Light makeup. Defined eyes. A soft pink lipstick. She leaves my hair down, straight and glossy, falling all the way to my waist.
When I finally look in the mirror, I don't recognize myself.
Not because I look like someone else.
But because I look… beautiful.
Not dressed up. Not trying too hard. Just beautiful.
"Wow," I whisper.
Kyla beams. "See? Told you."
She hands me heels and does a quick touch-up of her own lipstick. By the time we leave, it's past eight-thirty.
The pub is loud. Crowded. Alive.
Music pulses through the space, laughter mixing with clinking glasses. Kyla drags me to the bar and orders shots before I can process what's happening.
I haven't had alcohol in a long time.
The first sip burns. The second makes my head feel light. By the third, I'm laughing.
We move to the dance floor, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let go.
I move. I laugh. I forget.
A tall, handsome man approaches Kyla. Of course he does. She smiles, accepts, and they start dancing together.
I suddenly feel hot.
I head to the bar for water… and end up ordering another drink.
That's when I hear a voice near my ear.
"Fancy seeing you here."
I startle and turn.
Green eyes.
Alexander Hale.
"I—" I blink. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"I was out with friends," he says. "Celebrating something."
"So was I," I reply quickly.
He leans closer. "Your birthday."
My eyes widen. "How did you—"
"I'm your employer, Miss Moore," he says calmly. "Your birthdate is in your file."
I flush, embarrassed at my own reaction.
He watches me for a second, then lifts his hand, fingers brushing my cheek as he leans in again.
"Care for a dance?"
The touch sends a sharp thrill through me.
I nod.
The dance floor is crowded. Bodies press in from all sides. Someone bumps into me, and I stumble forward, my hands landing on his chest.
We freeze.
Too close.
For a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.
He looks down at me, his gaze dark, unreadable.
And then….
His lips meet mine.
Oh my god! I just kissed my boss!!!!