Ethan couldn't stop thinking about her.
How she might look without the sunglasses. How she might sound when she laughed—not the half-sarcastic chuckle from her videos, but the real kind. The kind that made her stomach hurt and her eyes water.
He imagined the way she'd smell. Something beachy. Coconuts, sea breeze, and sunshine. Like warmth bottled up.
It was insane. He'd never even seen her properly, never stood in the same room, never exchanged more than a few digital words. And yet here he was, picturing her curled up in his armchair, sipping something ridiculous like a lavender latte and teasing him about his spreadsheet addiction.
She'd mock his Google Calendar color codes. Call him a corporate robot. Probably say something like "Do your appointments include time scheduled for spontaneous human joy, or is that penciled in under 'existential dread'?"
And he'd let her. No—he'd love it.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, pacing across his penthouse. The city sprawled beneath him, all glittering lights and motion, and yet it felt flat. She wasn't in it. Or maybe she was. Somewhere out there. Eating avocado toast and making half-sarcastic videos about trust issues.
And then there was him.
The fiancé.
Ethan didn't know the guy. Didn't want to know him. But the mere idea of someone else having her, someone else waking up to her voice, her humor, her sarcasm—infuriated him. It made him feel like a jealous schoolboy. Pathetic. And still, the jealousy coiled in his chest like a lit fuse.
What was he doing? Pining after someone who belonged to someone else. He was supposed to be the level-headed one. CEO of a tech empire. Collected. Strategic. Not… this.
Not a man sitting alone in a penthouse, obsessing over a woman with a screen name and an anime profile photo.
He grabbed his phone and hovered over her last message.
"You're funny. That's a rare kind of dangerous."
He smiled, just a little. She had no idea what she'd started.
Emily – Tuesday, 4:47 p.m. – Her Flat
"What are you doing, Emily?"
That was the question that had been gnawing at me for days. I wasn't sure if it was rhetorical or if I was asking myself, but I couldn't seem to answer it. Here I was, sitting on my couch, phone in hand, staring at a text message from Ethan.
His messages were different from anyone else's. They weren't the typical compliments I'd grown used to as a micro-influencer. There was something—something real about them. It was a strange kind of connection, but I'd never been good at denying chemistry when it hit me. He was just… different.
And that irritated me. I shouldn't have been checking my phone every five minutes. I shouldn't have felt the rush of excitement when I saw his name on the screen.
I grabbed my blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders as if I could hide from myself. I hadn't told anyone about him—not even James. And for good reason. It wasn't a crush. It wasn't infatuation. But still… there was something there.
James had been pushing me to go out more, to be more in this relationship. But every time I tried, I felt like I was wearing someone else's clothes. I didn't feel like me when I was with him. Sure, he was dependable, and in many ways, I owed him everything. I wouldn't be in this flat, or living the life I had, without him. But… was it love?
James was always there, always steady, but the passion wasn't there. Maybe it had never been.
The ping of my phone broke through my thoughts. It was him again. Ethan.
"You make the apocalypse sound charming."
I smiled, a little too wide. I shouldn't have been smiling at a message like that. But something about him made me feel like I didn't need to put up a front. I didn't need to be the witty, sarcastic woman everyone expected me to be.
I could just be me.
I typed out a response quickly:
"Apocalypse? That's a little dramatic, don't you think? You should hear the way I talk about my tech support. The real end of the world."
I hit send and tossed the phone aside. There. Done. That should have been the end of it. Except... it wasn't. The phone vibrated immediately, another message from him.
"I'm just saying, you've got the edge. You could probably survive an actual apocalypse. I think I'd be toast. But I'd still want to be stuck with you."
My heart skipped. Did he mean that?
I stood up, pacing around my flat, fighting the urge to grab the phone and respond immediately. I didn't want to care this much. I didn't. But… damn it, I did.
I stopped myself. Was I falling for him? Ethan? The guy I barely knew?
But wasn't that the problem? I didn't know him. He didn't know me.
"It's just a little harmless texting," I muttered to myself.
But then, why did it feel like so much more?
I dropped back down on the couch, pulling my blanket tighter around my shoulders. I wasn't sure what I wanted, but I knew what I didn't want. I didn't want to feel trapped in a life that wasn't mine. Not with James. Not with anyone.
But was Ethan the answer? Or was he just a distraction?
***
He always had a way with words. Not cheesy. Not trying too hard. Just… real. Like he saw through the sarcasm and actually liked what was underneath.
She tossed the phone on the couch, like distance would make it less tempting. It didn't. She picked it up again five seconds later.
James walked into the flat, carrying groceries. "Hey. Got your oat milk."
"Thanks," she said, trying to sound normal.
He dropped the bags on the counter and looked at her. "You're glowing."
"What? No, I'm not."
"You are. And you've been weirdly quiet all week. Is this still about the video?"
Emily hesitated. "Partly."
He narrowed his eyes. "Is it the guy?"
She blinked. "What guy?"
"The one you keep messaging. The one who works in tech. You've been smiling at your phone like you're in a rom-com."
"I'm not in a rom-com," she snapped. Too quickly.
James's jaw tensed. "Just be careful, okay? You don't know him. For all you know, he's some startup bro with commitment issues and a God complex."
"I do know him," she said, defensive. "Sort of."
James crossed his arms. "You said it yourself—you don't even know his last name."
Emily looked away. "He knows mine."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut through steel.
James grabbed the oat milk and turned toward the fridge. "Just don't forget who's been here this whole time."
She stared at the back of his head. "I haven't forgotten."
But she had, a little. Not on purpose. Just… emotionally.
Ethan made her feel like herself. James made her feel like she was on a lease.