The morning sunlight seeped into Zaya's small apartment on Marble Echo Street, brushing against the sleek, mismatched furniture and her neatly stacked folders. The city outside was already alive—horns blaring, vendors calling, and the hum of cars weaving through the early traffic. But inside, Zaya's mind was tangled in thoughts she didn't want to admit aloud.
Drayven Coldhart. The name clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake. She tried to focus on her laptop screen, but the memory of his dark eyes, the precise way he had steadied her at the gala, and that faint smirk replayed over and over. Her friends would laugh at her if they knew. Obsessive, maybe—but she couldn't help it. Not after a single evening.
"Morning, Zaya!" Kendra's voice cut through the apartment, upbeat and sharp as ever. She was already perched on the kitchen counter, scrolling through her phone with an intensity that suggested mischief.
"Morning," Zaya muttered, rubbing at her eyes. Coffee hadn't kicked in yet, and neither had her courage to face the inevitable gossip that awaited her.
"Don't tell me you're still thinking about him." Kendra's smirk deepened. "Drayven Coldhart? The Veloria elite disaster who just walked into your life like he owned the city?"
Zaya sighed, avoiding her friend's gaze. "I barely even know him."
"You barely know him?" Kendra repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Girl, you've been staring at your phone all morning, pretending to be productive. Don't act like you're in control of your feelings."
Zaya shook her head, a flush creeping up her neck. "He's… different. Complicated. And frankly, intimidating. That's all."
Kendra's grin widened. "Different. Complicated. Intimidating. That's exactly the kind of guy who'll wreck your life in the next thirty days. Trust me."
Before Zaya could respond, her phone buzzed insistently. She glanced down and froze. A series of messages from their group chat lit the screen: "OMG did you see Zaya with that Coldhart guy??"
She felt her stomach drop. Screenshots, selfies, and comments flooded in. One image—taken during the gala—showed Zaya laughing, slightly leaning toward Drayven, who looked cool, distant, and untouchable. The caption read: "Veloria's next power couple? #UnexpectedCollisions"
"No… no, this can't be happening," Zaya whispered, fumbling to delete notifications. Her fingers trembled. "I don't even—this is… I didn't—"
Kendra snatched the phone. "Oh, sweetie, it's happening. The world has already decided you're his next obsession. And guess what? Everyone loves gossip more than truth."
Zaya groaned. "I didn't even post that!"
"I know. But apparently, a photographer got lucky. Veloria's social scene never misses a chance." Kendra leaned back, smirking. "And the best part? The comments are brutal. Half are jealous, half are thirsty, all are nosy."
Zaya buried her face in her hands. "I need a plan. How do I… fix this?"
Kendra shrugged. "You can't. Once you're in the spotlight, it's like being thrown into a hurricane with lipstick on. You either ride it or drown."
By the time she arrived at Starveil University, the rumors had already spread. Students whispered, exchanged glances, and giggled as she walked down the corridor. Zaya felt the familiar sting of anxiety, the kind that made her want to disappear into thin air.
"Morning, Moonfell," a voice called. It was Raina, a popular influencer in their class, her phone practically glued to her hand. "Quite the gala last night. Drayven Coldhart, huh? Tell me it's true."
Zaya forced a smile. "I don't—It was just a… photo. Nothing more."
"Sure, sure," Raina said, eyes sparkling with mischief. "But everyone's talking. Even Tasha Quillvine posted about it on LoveLynk. Apparently, she thinks you two are the city's hottest new 'power couple.'"
Zaya's stomach dropped. Tasha Quillvine—the influencer whose love advice page had half the city's young elite following—was notorious for exposing private texts, interpreting every interaction, and spinning scandals faster than anyone could respond.
"Great," Zaya muttered under her breath. "Just great."
Meanwhile, across town, Drayven Coldhart's world moved with calculated precision. The penthouse at Veloria Luxe Suites overlooked the city in sweeping, flawless panoramas. Every detail, from the art on the walls to the perfectly brewed coffee, screamed control. Yet, for all his careful planning, one thought intruded—Zaya Moonfell.
His assistant, a sharp-eyed young man named Royce, approached with a tablet in hand. "Sir, the press is already circulating photos from the gala. And… there's chatter online. It seems someone's made assumptions about your relationship with Ms. Moonfell."
Drayven leaned back in his leather chair, fingers steepled. "Assumptions?" His voice was flat, even, but there was a flicker of something deeper beneath the calm.
"Viral attention is growing," Royce said. "LoveLynk has featured her, and the comments… well, it's mixed. People are intrigued, some are critical, and others are… well, you know."
Drayven didn't respond immediately. He watched the city skyline, the bustling streets, the glimmering towers that represented a life built on strategy, wealth, and ruthless calculation. And yet, for a fleeting moment, he considered the girl who had collided with him, literally, and had refused to back down.
"She's curious," he muttered finally, almost to himself. "And stubborn. Exactly the kind that notices… patterns."
Royce raised an eyebrow. "Patterns, sir?"
Drayven's eyes darkened. "Don't concern yourself with it. But… find out more about her background. University, family, interests. Discreetly."
"Of course, sir."
Back at Starveil, Zaya found herself navigating a maze of whispers, stares, and subtle judgment. Every step she took seemed observed, measured, and speculated upon. She hated the feeling, but a part of her couldn't deny the thrill—the dangerous magnetism of someone noticing her in a way that mattered.
Kendra nudged her shoulder as they reached their shared locker space. "So, what's the plan? Are you going to ignore it, or confront the gossip head-on?"
Zaya shook her head. "Ignore it. Focus on the work. Let people talk. They'll forget in a week."
"People never forget Veloria gossip," Kendra muttered. "And with Drayven Coldhart involved? Forget about it. You're already a headline."
The day passed in a blur of lectures, presentations, and forced smiles. Zaya tried to immerse herself in the routine, but every glance from a passing student, every whisper, seemed magnified. She could feel the eyes on her, imagining conversations, constructing stories, inventing realities she hadn't even lived.
By evening, she was drained. Her phone buzzed again—this time, a direct message from a number she didn't recognize.
"We need to talk. Tomorrow. Noon. Your discretion is appreciated. —D.C."
Her pulse spiked. Drayven Coldhart. The initials left no room for doubt. Her hands shook as she reread the message.
Kendra, sitting beside her, noticed immediately. "Oh no… he's actually reaching out. And you didn't even reply yet?"
"I… I don't know what to say," Zaya admitted, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "He could be… anything. Dangerous, rich, intimidating… I don't even know him."
"Exactly why you should go," Kendra said sharply. "This is Veloria City. Opportunities like this… they don't wait. But—be careful. He's not the type who does casual."
That night, Zaya couldn't sleep. She stared at the ceiling, mind replaying every moment with him—the collision, his smirk, the intensity of his gaze. Her thoughts were interrupted by the constant buzzing of social media. Screenshots, gossip threads, and comments flooded in from every angle. People were already theorizing about their "relationship," their chemistry, even their futures.
And somewhere deep in the chaos of her racing thoughts, a dangerous curiosity took root.
Who was Drayven Coldhart, really?
And why did the world—and her—feel like it had shifted the moment he touched her hand?