At 6:50, Lina stood in front of her closet, the deep ache… had retreated to a low, threatening thrum, a ceasefire she didn't trust. She bypassed her usual jeans and tees and reached for one of the dresses her mum had bought for her. She'd always thought they were too fancy, too 'try-hard' for her life. Well, look at her now. She pulled out one of the dresses—a simple but elegant slip of emerald green silk—and held it up. It was nice. Really nice. Her mother had a freakish, psychic, terrifying sense for good taste. She'd already demolished every single snack and homemade meal from the care package, down to the very last egg. How the hell had she managed that? And yet, back in her closet, dozens of new clothes with their tags still dangling hadn't even gotten a second glance.
After slipping into the dress, she faced the mirror. The pallor from the pain was still there, lurking under her skin. Makeup. Right. She kept it light—a bit of concealer, a swipe of mascara, a touch of blush. She could do more. Hell, she once won third place in a makeup contest. But tonight, she just wanted to look normal.
A final spritz of 'Oblivion' perfume sealed the deal. The complex, amber-and-iris scent settled around her. That was one of the few fucking perk of being a perfumery scout for Aurum Scents was the constant, glorious access to the good shit before anyone else.
She was just shoving some emergency pads into her clutch when her phone buzzed with Bella's face flashing on the screen.
"Hey, you ready?" Lina answered.
"Almost. Listen, can you do me a massive, life-saving favor? Bring your makeup kit. My attempt looks like a toddler attacked me with a crayon. I swear to god, Lina, my eyeliner is giving 'sad clown.' I need an intervention."
Lina almost smiled. Bella could negotiate a business contract, out-argue a lawyer, she was a genius with hair, clothes, could cook like a Michelin-starred chef, and assemble IKEA furniture without cursing, but makeup broke her. She just didn't have the gene for it. "You're a disaster. Fine. I'll save you from yourself."
Lina tossed a curated selection of powders and liners into her clutch. Just as she zipped it shut, a soft ding announced a text. She expected it to be Lucas, saying he was outside. But it wasn't. It was a bank alert.
Account Credited: $500.00. Sender: Johnson, Anthony.
She stared at the numbers. Her dad. A wave of warm, complicated affection washed over her. This had her mum's fingerprints all over it. Her mother had probably stood over her father's shoulder, dictating the amount. A lump formed in her throat, warm and sudden. The money was unnecessary; she was a grown woman with a job. But the gesture… She blinked hard, pressing her fingertips to her eyes to stop the stupid, grateful tears.
Five minutes later, her phone rang again. This time, it was Lucas. "I'm downstairs."
"Be right down."
Grabbing her things, she headed down. The evening air was still warm, carrying the scent of the city. She saw a figure leaning against a car, and her brain short-circuited for a second. Because it wasn't just a car. It was a fucking Mercedes-Maybach, a low-slung beast of polished obsidian that looked like it ate other luxury cars for breakfast. a beast of polished curves and silent money. And Lucas…
Lucas Miller was leaning against it, and he was… different.
Gone was the slouching—lanky nerd with thick-framed glasses and a continuous nervous habit of staring at the floor—had solidified into a man. He was tall, with a lean, athletic build that suggested more time in a gym. His face, once softened by boyish roundness, was now all defined jawline and sharp cheekbones. The old glasses were gone, revealing intelligent, perceptive eyes that held a calm, steady warmth. His smile, was no longer a nervous flicker, but instead, it was slow, easy, it still carried a trace of that old, thoughtful sincerity. He had a striking, clean-cut handsomeness that spoke of good genetics and better care.
"Wow," she said before she could stop herself, walking towards him. "You… upgraded."
He gave a sheepish grin, the old familiar ghost of his teenage self flickering in it. "You look… really great, Lina.The green is good, suit's you perfectly" he replied. Opening the passenger's door out for her.
"Thanks," she said, slipping into the passenger seat that felt like a cockpit designed by angels.
She'd expected the ride to be awkward, a silent twenty-minute stretch of her overthinking every passing streetlight. Surprisingly, it wasn't. She found herself asking him questions. Not reunion ones, but real ones. How was he? Was he still into those terrible sci-fi movies with the rubber monsters? He answered easily, laughing at the memory. The conversation was effortless, a smooth gear shift she hadn't anticipated.
They picked up Bella, who wolf-whistled at the car before diving into the backseat. "Holy shit, Lucas! Did you rob a bank? Wait! Did you invent a new color of money?"
"Something like that," Lucas said, laughing.
At a red light, Lina twisted around with her makeup kit. "Hold still, you disaster."
Bella leaned forward, and Lina worked her magic, replicating her own light makeup on her friend's face. "See? You have a face now," Lina said, capping her lip gloss.
"I owe you my first-born," Bella breathed, examining herself in the rearview mirror.
Lucas parked the Maybach with a soft purr in front of The Gilded Pearl. The hotel was a monument of glass and gilt, shimmering under spotlights. A shared, wary look passed between Bella and Lina. After the fucking disaster at The Velvet, hotels with fancy names put them on edge. But Lucas was already handing his keys to a valet, his demeanor calm and assured. "Come on," he said. "Let's go in."
The 'reunion' was in a private lounge. The private room was already buzzing. The air was thick with expensive cologne, the clink of cocktail glasses, and the loud, performative laughter of people trying very hard to impress each other. What they had hoped would be a fun catch-up with old friends immediately revealed itself as something else:ba thinly-veiled fucking bragging contest. Everyone was a VP, a founder, an influencer. A CEO. Lina felt the green silk of her dress, once a comfort, now feel like a costume she hadn't paid enough for.
When the conversational spotlight swung to Bella and Lina, a expectant hush fell.
"So, what are you two brilliant minds up to these days?" asked Sammy, who'd already mentioned his "start-up" three times.
Bella smiled easily. "I'm a fashion designer over at Elara Designs."
"And I'm a perfumery scout for Aurum Scents," Lina added, keeping her tone casual.
The reaction was immediate. A few eyebrows shot up. Aurum Scents, the small, prestigious perfumery that had recently—and shockingly—secured a collaboration with the massive Vega Corporation, that was now the talk of Eldrida.
"No shit? Aurum?" one of their mates, Derek, whistled. "The one that just landed the Vega deal? Have you actually met Daniel Viggo?" He said the name with a kind of reverence, as if mentioning a sovereign. "The man owns Blackwood. He's a ghost."
Lina took a slow sip of her champagne, giving nothing away. She just offered a vague, closed-lipped smile. Her silence seemed to speak louder than any answer.
"Come on, Lina! The 'Oblivion' launch is all anyone can talk about. How many bottles are they actually releasing? Give us the insider track!" another pressed.
"You'll have to wait and see, just like everyone else," she said, her voice pleasant but firm. She desperately turned to Lucas, who was listening quietly beside her. "What about you, Lucas? What's your story?," she added.
All eyes turned to him. He shifted slightly, looking almost uncomfortable with the attention. "Oh, I founded Flicker Films," he said, his voice casual, as if mentioning a minor hobby.
He pulled a simple, matte black card from his wallet and placed it on the table. It bore only the company's iconic logo—a single, elegant frame of film curling into a flame—and his name, Lucas Miller, Founder & Chairman.
"Holy shit," Sammy breathed, picking up the card. "You're that Lucas Miller? Dude. I never thought it'd be 'your' Lucas Miller."
The statement hung in the air. Flicker Films wasn't just a company; it was a phenomenon. What had started as a tiny incubator for digital talent was now the engine behind some of the biggest streaming hits, the crucible where the stars of "Eldrida" and half a dozen other flagship series had been forged. Its reputation for discovering and polishing raw talent was legendary. The company was legendary for its gritty, award-winning dramas and its Midas touch with unknown actors. Even Bella and Lina were shocked. They'd guessed he was rich, but this was a different league of influence altogether. Bella kicked Lina's foot under the table, her eyes wide. This was clout.
Sammy, looking slightly deflated that his spotlight moment was so thoroughly upstaged, gave a practiced, charming laugh and clinked his glass. "Alright, everyone! Enough industry talk. Dinner is served downstairs in the restaurant. Let's head down!"
The grand dining room was even more lavish. Lina, however, could barely appreciate it. A deep, familiar ache had taken root in her abdomen, her cramps escalating from a dull twinge to a persistent, grinding throb. She just pushed the food around on her plate, her appetite completely gone.
Lucas, seated beside her, noticed. He'd been quietly adding portions of the least offensive-looking dishes to her plate—some roasted vegetables, a piece of salmon, a spoonful of truffle mashed potatoes. "You should eat," he murmured, his voice low.
Not wanting to seem rude, especially after his help, she forced down a few bites. But the pain was a persistent fist clenching inside her. She kept subtly pressing a hand to her stomach, her jaw tight.
"Hey," Lucas murmured, leaning closer so only she could hear. "What's wrong? You've been quiet all through dinner. And you look pale"
"Just a bad tummy ache," she whispered back, forcing a smile. "It's nothing."
He watched her for a long moment, seeing the lie. "Do you want me to take you home?"
The relief was so profound she nearly groaned. She nodded. "I'm really sorry. I just… yeah. I really sorry to bother you."
"Don't apologize." He immediately turned to Bella, who was across the table debating film genres with a cinematographer. "Bella? We're going to head out. Lina's not feeling great. You coming?"
Bella looked at Lina's strained face and mouthed 'Cramps?' Lina gave a tiny nod. Bella waved a hand. "You two go. We already made plans to hit that new KTV place after this. Text me when you're home, yeah?"