Sasha hadn't planned to drink not really. She was just going to show up, be cordial, maybe dance once or twice, and keep to herself. But plans unravel fast when emotions are frayed. And hers were dangling by a thread.
The office had come alive for Kian's birthday. Fairy lights were strung across the event space, tables dressed in black and gold. The cake was massive, his wife dazzling in a red dress, laughing too loudly, clinking glasses with his colleagues like she owned them all.
Sasha stood near the back, champagne flute in hand, watching the celebration from the shadows. Kian hadn't even glanced her way once not once. Instead, he stuck by his wife's side, hand on her waist, whispering into her ear. A public performance or a private reality? She didn't know anymore. She hated that she cared.
So, she drank. First to ease the sharp edges. Then to drown the ache.
Adrian found her by the drinks table, refilling her glass for the third time. "Whoa, slow down there," he chuckled, taking the bottle from her hand. "Planning to forget the night or burn it into your memory?"
Sasha smirked, already tipsy. "Neither. Just trying to blur it a little."
He looked at her, concerned but amused. "You okay?"
"Peachy," she lied.
The music grew louder, people danced and laughed. Kian and his wife took the center briefly, swaying to an old love song. Sasha looked away. Adrian stayed by her side the entire time, throwing in small talk, harmless flirtations, trying to cheer her up.
She didn't resist the second cocktail. Nor the third.
By the time the cake was cut and the speeches began, Sasha was leaning against a wall, eyes heavy, head spinning. Adrian noticed quickly. "You shouldn't be driving," he said gently. "Let me take you home."
She didn't protest.
Across the room, Kian saw them leave together. Adrian's hand at the small of Sasha's back. Her leaning slightly into him. Something in his chest twisted, sharp and cold. He tried not to react, not with his wife gripping his arm, laughing with someone about their honeymoon in Malindi. But his eyes followed them until they disappeared through the exit.
Adrian's car smelled faintly of leather and mint. Alani stared out the window, quiet now, the alcohol numbing more than just her limbs.
"Thanks for this," she mumbled.
"No problem. I wasn't going to let you Uber in that state," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. "You looked... overwhelmed tonight."
"I was stupid," she admitted, eyes fluttering closed. "Should've stayed home."
"Why didn't you?"
She didn't answer. What could she say? That she wanted to see Kian? That she'd dressed with him in mind, only to spend the evening watching him pretend she didn't exist?
"Nothing's gonna happen," Adrian said when they pulled into her apartment complex, as if reading her mind. "I'm walking you to the door. That's it."
Sasha nodded, suddenly sober enough to be grateful.
At the door, she leaned against the frame, swaying slightly. Adrian steadied her with one hand.
"Sleep it off, Sasha."
She gave a small smile. "Thanks again."
He hesitated. "He saw us leave together, you know."
Her smile faded.
Adrian shrugged. "He looked like he wanted to kill me."
Then he turned and walked away.
Kian didn't sleep that night.
He hadn't even wanted the party—his wife had insisted. "You've been too distant," she'd said. "Let's do something fun." He hadn't fought it, but now he wished he had.
Seeing Sasha with Adrian had set something off in him. A quiet rage mixed with helplessness. She was his employee. Nothing more. Nothing official. But he felt territorial, almost possessive. And now she'd been in Adrian's car. Going home. Alone. Or not?
The not knowing was eating him alive.
His wife was passed out in bed, mascara smudged, shoes still on. He stood at the window, jaw clenched, mind racing.
He had crossed lines. Too many. Now Adrian was doing the same.
And Sasha what did she want?
The next morning, Sasha woke up with a splitting headache and vague flashes of the night. Champagne. Adrian. Kian's eyes. The silence that screamed louder than words.
She sat up slowly, groaning. Her phone buzzed.
*LEX*: "He asked if you got home safe."
Sasha stared at the message.
"SASHA": "Who?"
"LEX": "Kian. Pretended it was a casual question."
Sasha tossed the phone aside and lay back down. So he cared. But not enough. Not publicly. Not honestly.
Her doorbell rang.
She froze.
When she opened it, Kian stood there, coffee in one hand, a brown bag in the other.
He looked tired. "Thought you'd need breakfast."Sasha blinked, unsure if she was still dreaming. "You... what?"
"I was in the neighborhood," he lied.
She stepped aside slowly, letting him in.
"You left early," he said, placing the coffee on her counter.
"I left before I made a scene," she said dryly.
He turned to face her. "With Adrian."
"Don't start."
"I'm not starting. I just..." He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I didn't like it." Sasha crossed her arms. "You don't get to like or dislike who I leave with, Kian. You're married. You made that clear."
"I didn't say it wasn't complicated."
"It's not complicated. It's wrong."
They stood in silence, the air between them charged.
Finally, he said, "Just... don't shut me out."
"I wasn't the one pretending not to see you last night."
He winced. "I couldn't risk it."
"You already did," she whispered.
Kian looked at her for a long moment. Then he turned and walked to the door.
"Thanks for the coffee," she said.
He paused. "Tell Adrian I said hi."
And then he left.Sasha stood there, holding the warm cup, her chest aching. The spiral had begun. And no one was stopping it.