LOGINRafael sat back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he stared across his desk at the man waiting patiently opposite him.Anthony looked exactly like what he was. IT. Early thirties, neat beard, wire-rimmed glasses, tablet balanced on his knee as if it were an extension of his body. Calm. Methodical. The sort of person who did not panic when systems failed, because he understood why they failed.Rafael’s phone vibrated on the desk.He glanced down.It was his mother. Again. He too busy to be dealing with her right now. He phone went quiet and before he even had a moment to look away, it started again. His mother again.His jaw tightened. He turned the screen face down and silenced it in one smooth movement.“Go on,” he said turning his focus back on Anthony, “Talk.”Anthony nodded, adjusting his glasses.“When you asked me to check your system activity, I assumed it would be a routine scan,” he said. “Suspicious login. Maybe a compromised password. What I found was… more
The airport was loud in the way only airports could be. Not chaotic, not frantic, but layered. Rolling suitcases rattled over tiled floors. Announcements chimed overhead in neutral voices. Conversations overlapped and blurred into a constant hum that never quite faded.Felix stood just behind his parents and Belinda near the arrivals gate, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, jaw set.He still did not understand why he was here.He glanced sideways at his mother for the third time in ten minutes. Irene Nikolaidis stood straight-backed, handbag clutched neatly at her side, eyes scanning the glass doors with barely contained anticipation. She looked every bit the composed matriarch, but Felix knew that beneath that polish she was brimming with nervous energy.Belinda stood slightly apart from them, one hand resting protectively against her belly. She had dressed carefully for this, Felix noted. Soft colours. Nothing too fitted. She looked pale but composed, her posture stiff with
The weekend seemed to have sneaked on Adrea. She sat in the car as it approached Aris’ childhood home. No matter how much the guy said it was okay, the butterflies in her stomach did not cease their frantic flutters.She folded her hands together in her lap, then unfolded them, then rested one palm against the door as if grounding herself. Outside the window, the neighbourhood slipped by in quiet, orderly lines. It was not ostentatious, not flashy. Everything about the place suggested intention rather than display.Aris glanced at her from the driver’s seat.“You look like you are about to be questioned by a firing squad,” he said lightly.Adrea huffed out a breath.“I feel like I am,” she admitted. “Your mother wants to meet the woman in your life. That feels… significant.”“It is significant,” he agreed easily. “But not in a terrifying way.”She shot him a look.“That does not help.”He smiled, clearly pleased with himself.“Alright,” he said. “Reframe it. My mother has been waiting
The boutique was quiet in the way over priced places often were.Soft music hummed beneath the low murmur of polite conversation. Racks were spaced generously, dresses arranged by colour and cut rather than size, each piece lit as though it were art rather than clothing. Mirrors lined the walls, tall and forgiving, reflecting silk and satin and the slow confidence of women who knew exactly where they were and why.Adrea stood in front of one of them, fingers brushing over the sleeve of a lavender dress.“This one,” Sofia said from behind her, peering critically at the rack. “You keep circling it like it owes you money.”Adrea smiled faintly.“It reminds me of something my father would have liked,” she admitted. “He always said the colour made me look like an elf… the ethereal type.”Sofia stepped closer, studying the fabric.“Your father had taste,” she said. “And instincts. Try it on.”Adrea hesitated, then nodded and slipped the dress off the hanger.They had been shopping for over
Rafael’s apartment was quiet in the way only spaces lived in by single men ever were.Not empty. Not neglected. Just still.Late afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, striping the wooden floor in gold and shadow. Rafael sat at the kitchen counter with his laptop open, sleeves rolled up, attention fixed on figures that blurred together after too many hours of staring. The documents were work related, contracts that required precision but no passion. He preferred them that way lately. Numbers did not betray you. Clauses did watch you heartlessly while pretending to be what they were not as your life came apart.He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. It had gotten cold.He had made it hours ago.The knock at the door startled him more than it should have. He frowned at the sound, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the silence like an accusation. No one came by unannounced. Not unless he counted his mother.With dread building in his gut, he closed his laptop slowly and sto
The building still rose out of the city like a promise made of glass and steel.Adrea paused at the bottom of the wide steps leading into the headquarters, her gaze lifting instinctively to the familiar lines of the façade. The morning sun struck the glass at an angle that turned the structure almost translucent, reflections of clouds drifting across its surface as though the sky itself had been invited inside.For a moment, she was not a grown woman with legal authority and an appointment on the top floor.She was a child again.Small fingers curled around her father’s hand. Shoes polished too carefully for a girl who would scuff them within minutes. Her neck craned back as she stared up in awe at the place where her father worked, where decisions were made that shaped markets and futures.He had laughed softly then and squeezed her hand.“Don’t let buildings intimidate you,” he had told her. “They’re only impressive because people agree they are.”She exhaled slowly now, grounding h







