Elara Voss stood in front of the full-length mirror in her high-rise Manhattan apartment, the kind with views that made you feel like you owned the city.
The skyline stretched out below, a chaotic mosaic of lights and shadows where yellow cabs darted like fireflies and pedestrians hustled with that signature New York urgency. She adjusted the neckline of her silk blouse, the soft fabric clinging to her skin in all the right places.
It was the one Alex had gifted her on her last birthday, insisting it brought out the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. "Babe, you look edible in this," he had said with that grin of his, the one that always made her knees wobble a bit.
At twenty eight, Elara was in her prime or so every lifestyle blog and motivational podcast kept drilling into her head. She owned Voss Visions, her interior design firm that specialized in transforming sterile corporate spaces into vibrant havens of productivity and style. Think sleek ergonomic desks paired with lush green walls of living plants, because apparently surrounding yourself with ferns could boost creativity by twenty percent or some nonsense statistic she had read in a trade magazine. Her current big project was redesigning the headquarters for an up-and-coming tech startup, and she was knee-deep in mood boards filled with sustainable materials and ambient lighting schemes. It was exhilarating, exhausting, and exactly what she had dreamed of since art school.
But tonight was not about work. Tonight was their engagement party. Hers and Alex Kane's. They had been together for three years, engaged for six months, and the wedding was set for spring. Elara twisted the two-carat solitaire on her finger, watching it catch the light. It was flawless, just like everyone said their relationship was.
Alex was the total package: thirty years old, six foot two, with dark wavy hair that always looked effortlessly tousled and a jawline sharp enough to slice bread. He founded Kane Innovations, an app that matched freelancers with instant gigs—like "Tinder for talent," as he liked to quip. They met at a networking mixer where the wine was cheap but the connections were gold. He had approached her with a cocktail in hand, commenting on her sketchbook doodles. "You draw offices like they're alive," he said. She laughed, and that was it. Sparks flew, dates followed, and before she knew it, they were inseparable.
Lately, though, something felt off. Little cracks in the foundation. Alex's phone buzzing at odd hours, his excuses for late nights at the office piling up like unpaid bills. "Crunch time, babe," he would say, kissing her forehead. "The new update's gonna change everything." Elara wanted to believe him. She did. But doubt had a way of sneaking in, like a draft under the door.
The doorbell chimed, pulling her from her thoughts. She opened it to find Lila Reyes, her best friend and marketing whiz at Voss Visions, standing there with a bottle of prosecco and a grin that could light up Times Square. Lila was twenty-nine, with a mane of wild black curls, olive skin, and curves that she rocked unapologetically. She burst in, hugging Elara like they hadn't seen each other in years, even though it had been just that morning at the office.
"Damn, girl, you are serving looks tonight!" Lila exclaimed, stepping back to appraise her. "That blouse? Chef's kiss. Alex is gonna lose his mind."
Elara chuckled, feeling warmth spread through her. "Thanks, Lils. You're not half bad yourself. That dress hugs you like it owes you money."
Lila struck a pose, her red sequined number sparkling under the apartment lights. "What can I say? I aim to outshine the bride-to-be. Kidding! Now, where's Prince Charming? Don't tell me he's bailing on pre-party drinks."
"He's meeting us at the venue. Some last-minute work call." Elara shrugged, but her voice carried a hint of annoyance she couldn't quite mask.
Lila's eyes narrowed, her intuition sharp as ever. "Work call on engagement party night? Bold move. If he's smart, he'll show up with an apology in the form of chocolate or jewelry. Preferably both."
They popped the prosecco, clinking glasses on the balcony as the city hummed below. "To you and Alex," Lila toasted. "May your marriage be as fabulous as your designs and twice as stable."
Elara sipped, the bubbles tickling her nose. "Stable. Yeah. That's the dream."
Lila caught the undertone. "Spill. What's with the face? You look like you just found out your favorite coffee shop discontinued oat milk."
Elara hesitated, then sighed. "It's nothing. Just… Alex has been distant. Phone glued to his hand, late nights. I don't know."
Lila set her glass down. "Honey, that's not nothing. That's classic red-flag territory. But hey, maybe it's wedding jitters. Or he's planning a surprise honeymoon to Bali."
Elara forced a laugh. "Yeah, maybe. Let's not jinx it. Come on, cab's waiting."
The venue was a rooftop lounge in Chelsea that Elara had personally designed for a client last year. String lights draped like fairy webs overhead, casting a warm glow on the crowd. Fresh floral arrangements in soft pinks and whites dotted the space, and a jazz band played smooth tunes in the corner. Guests milled about, champagne flutes in hand, the air filled with chatter and laughter.
Elara's parents were the first to spot her. Her mom, Diane, a retired teacher with a penchant for floral prints, enveloped her in a hug. "My baby girl! You look radiant. Doesn't she, Tom?"
Her dad, Tom, a quiet engineer type, nodded awkwardly, adjusting his tie. "Absolutely. Proud of you, kiddo."
Alex's family was there too: his parents, polished and proper, and his older brother Victor, a finance guy with a booming laugh and a habit of telling dad jokes. "Elara! Future sis-in-law. Ready to join the Kane clan? We have a secret handshake."
She smiled, playing along. "Teach me later. After a few drinks."
But where was Alex? Ten minutes late, then fifteen. Elara checked her phone, no texts. Guests started glancing her way, whispers floating like smoke. Finally, the elevator dinged, and there he was, striding in with a bouquet of red roses and that disarming smile. "Sorry, everyone! Traffic was murder." He made a beeline for Elara, pulling her into a kiss that drew cheers from the crowd.
"Cutting it close" she whispered against his lips.
"Forgive me?" He handed her the roses, his brown eyes twinkling.
She inhaled their scent. "This time."
The party ramped up. Toasts were made: Elara's mom got teary eyed, reminiscing about Elara's childhood dreams of a white wedding. Alex's dad boasted about the Kane family business legacy. Victor cracked jokes about Alex's questionable dance moves. Through it all, Elara held Alex's hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. It grounded her, reminded her why she said yes.
As the night progressed, they hit the dance floor. The band played a slow number, and Alex pulled her close, his hands on her waist. "Remember our first dance?" he murmured.
How could she forget? Flashback to that networking event, after hours, when the crowd thinned and someone cranked up the music. They had danced under string lights much like these, laughing as they stepped on each other's toes. "You're terrible at this," she had teased.
"And you're perfect," he replied, spinning her into a kiss that tasted like promise and pinot noir.
That night had led to more. Their first real date the following week, a picnic in Central Park. Alex packed gourmet cheeses, fresh bread, and a bottle of wine, but forgot the corkscrew. "Master planner, huh?" Elara laughed, watching him improvise with his shoe, banging the bottle until the cork popped out in a comedic spray.
They talked for hours: about her passion for design, his startup dreams, their shared love of late-night city walks. When the sun set, he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands framing her face. "I think I'm falling for you," he whispered.
The memory warmed her now, even as doubts lingered. On the dance floor, she leaned into him, inhaling his cologne—that mix of sandalwood and citrus. But then his phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it at first, but when it buzzed again, he pulled away slightly. "Sorry, babe. Might be important."
Elara's smile faltered. "Tonight? Really?"
"Just a quick check." He glanced at the screen, his expression neutral, then pocketed it. "Nothing. Back to us."
But the moment was tainted. They danced a bit more, but her mind wandered. Later, as guests mingled, Lila pulled her aside. "You okay? You look like you're plotting someone's demise."
Elara glanced at Alex, who was laughing with Victor. "Just tired. Parties are exhausting."
Lila snorted. "Tell me about it. Remember my last birthday bash? I woke up with a tattoo I don't remember getting. A tiny cactus on my ankle. Symbolic, I guess."
Elara burst out laughing, the tension easing. "You're impossible."
"That's why you love me. Now, go enjoy your fiancé. And if he checks that phone one more time, I'll 'accidentally' spill wine on it."
The party wound down around midnight. Guests hugged goodbye, promising to see them at the wedding. In the cab home, Alex nuzzled her neck. "Best night ever. Can't wait to marry you."
Elara smiled, but her heart wasn't fully in it. "Me too."