- ( Dylan's POV ) -
A few hours before the club closed, the partygoers began to leave. Some were still laughing, some were too drunk to go home, and others looked exhausted from pretending to be happy.
Yuri and Rapha had already started mingling with other groups. Jasmine went to the ladies' room. I was left alone for a moment at the edge of the VIP booth, holding a glass I was barely drinking from.
I saw Elijah stand up and step outside while talking on the phone. A few moments later, I noticed Sophia, no, Amelie, walking up the stairs leading to the rooftop of the club. She was quiet and alone, as if she needed air.
I don't know why I followed her.
The night air was cooler. Below us were the lights of passing cars, the unsteady footsteps of people who could barely walk straight, and the laughter of men who had clearly drunk too much. I saw her stop near the railings, hugging herself, staring up at the sky as if searching for silence.
"Miss," one of the men called out. "Are you okay?"
There were three of them and they were drunk. Their eyes were bold and careless.
I stepped forward immediately.
"Hey," I said, my voice cold.
" Leave her alone."
They looked at me, sizing me up. One of them smirked.
"Relax, bro. We're just being friendly."
"She's not interested," I replied, stepping closer. " Just back off."
For a moment, tension hung between us, but they backed off when they met my gaze. I didn't move away from her until they were completely gone.
She stayed quiet. She didn't speak right away, as if she was expecting another cold remark or another sharp comment.
So she spoke first.
"Thank you," she said softly. "You didn't have to .... "
"No," I cut in. " I have to."
Our eyes met.
And that was when I felt something I hadn't expected, concern. It was real and unfiltered, with no anger and no games. In her eyes, there was sadness and there were questions, as if she wanted to say something but was holding back words she couldn't bring herself to speak.
"Dylan," she started....
I didn't know what I wanted to hear, or if I was even ready to hear anything at all.
" Never mind...It's nothing.. "
She didn't continue what she is about to say and looked away quickly.
She turned her back and took a step away.
"Amelie," I called, before I could stop myself.
She stopped a moment.
I took her hand, just for a moment.
Time froze a second, there was one heartbeat.
One moment where everything could have changed.
But I let go just as quickly.
She didn't turn back. She went inside, and left me standing in the cold night, with a question in my chest that refused to quiet down.
***********
When I got back to my condo, everything was silent. There was no music and no noise, but in my mind, her image replayed over and over, the surprise, the worry, and the sadness she tried so hard to hide.
Why did she look at me that way?
And why couldn't I settle down?
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, while the city lights slowly slid across the curtains. I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, her face returned.
The way she hugged herself outside the club.
The way she let go of my hand, not in anger, but in fear. Fear of what might happen if she stayed any longer.
I cursed under my breath and sat on the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees. I had long been used to the noise in my head, to resentment, and to pride acting as armor.
But this was different.
It wasn't anger, and neither was it clear or obvious jealousy.
It was the feeling that something was wrong with the choices I was making, and even more wrong with the reasons I kept making them.
************
The next day at the Chen Empire Tower,
I stood in front of the conference room .
"Good morning," I said to the people seated at the table.
"I'm Dylan Luis Chen, Project Head of the CBDC Expansion."
The HR head introduced the team members one by one.
"Stella Santos," HR said. "Assistant Project Coordinator and Senior Operations Lead."
Stella nodded, her posture straight.
"Marco Villanueva," she continued. "Finance Strategy."
"Lara Kim," followed. "Brand Development."
Then the door opened.
Amelie walked in, slightly breathless, apologizing. She was late because she had taken Elijah to the airport. He had to return to Zurich on an emergency due to an issue at the Chen Medical Center, and he would be gone for a week.
"And Sophia Redford," HR added,
"Creative Marketing Specialist."
Her eyes widened when she saw me at the head of the table. I caught the brief pause and the way her breath seemed to hitch.
"Good morning," I said, forcing my voice to stay neutral. "Welcome to the team."
She sat down, quiet and straight-backed, but I could feel the tension.
Hours later, in the elevator after the meeting, it was just the two of us. There were no words and no movement, and with every passing floor, the air felt heavier.
"Dylan," she finally said.
"I don't know..."
"Don't worry.. It's nothing personal, work only," I cut in immediately.
"That's it."
She nodded, but she didn't look at me.
****************
The following day.....
Yuri and Marie were at the tailoring shop across Café Bulle De Ciel. Through the glass, I could see white curtains, racks of expensive fabric, and staff moving efficiently.
Before I could turn away, Yuri burst into the café, breathless, as if she had been chasing a train.
"Kuya," she called, heading straight for the counter. "Perfect timing!"
"No," I answered immediately. "I'm busy."
She smiled, the kind of smile that always meant trouble.
"Elijah isn't here, right? We need someone to try on his suit, so you'll do."
I scoffed. "I'm not a mannequin."
"You have the same measurements, height, build, and shoulders," she said.
"You're our only option."
" Yuri I said I am busy... "
"Dylan, please," Marie cut in softly from the doorway, her voice quiet but firm.
"It'll only take a moment."
I checked my watch.
In the end, I gave in.
"Five minutes," I said.
"After that, I'm going straight back."
Yuri smiled like she had won the lottery.
__________________
Later inside the shop...
I was handed a charcoal suit. The place was quiet, filled only with the rustle of fabric and the tailor's low voice.
"Just relax, sir," the elderly tailor said as he adjusted my shoulders. "A small movement."
I didn't know why my chest felt heavy as I stood there. It felt as if I was waiting for something, as if something was coming that I didn't want to happen.
And when the fitting room on the other side opened, it felt like all the lights disappeared.
Sophia, no, Amelie, stepped out wearing a white wedding dress.
In an instant, she was all I could see.
The fabric fell perfectly against her body, her shoulders, her neck, and the way she stood made it feel as if this wasn't just a fitting, as if this was already the day itself.
Then our eyes met.
There were no words and no movement.
Time seemed gone in slow motion.
Something twisted in my chest, not anger and not jealousy, but a broken dream, a pain I had long recognized and stubbornly refused to accept.
I saw the slight rise of her breath and the brief pause of her fingers against the fabric of the gown. She didn't smile and she didn't look away immediately.
Marie noticed first. She stayed quiet and made no comment, but in her eyes was understanding, as if she had read a page from a book that had long been open.
Yuri, on the other hand, was beaming.
"Wow," she said. "You're beautiful, ate."
That was when we both looked away.
I cleared my throat. "Is this done?"
"Yes," the tailor replied. "Thank you, sir."
I didn't even say a proper goodbye.
I left the shop immediately, leaving behind the suit, the lights, and the moment I knew would never leave my memory.
******************
Later that night .....
It was time for my race with Rapha.
The air at the track was hot. The smell of gasoline filled the space. Engines roared and the crowd shouted.
Yuri was there, excited as ever, as if it were her first time watching, even though she had accompanied me countless times before. She had invited Sophia too, and Amelie stood quietly to the side, dressed simply, but the tension in her posture was unmistakable.
And Jasmine was there.
Fully supportive, holding water, her smile never fading.
"Focus," she said. "You've got this."
I nodded. But from the corner of my vision, I saw Amelie. She was quiet, her gaze fixed on the track. I knew she wasn't looking at me directly, as if she didn't want to see me, but couldn't quite look away either.
Rapha stood only a few steps away, leaning against his car. His jaw was tight and his stare was deep, filled with anger and envy.
And the race began.
Engines screamed and tires gripped the asphalt, and all the noise vanished from my mind.
Only one thing was clear.
I had to win..... And I did.
After the finish line, applause exploded, followed by cheers and laughter.
Jasmine rushed to me, hugged me, and kissed my cheek.
"I told you."
I smiled, but I didn't feel the victory.
Rapha didn't come closer. He turned his back on everything and walked away, his fists clenched. Before he disappeared from my sight, our eyes met.
There was anger there, and I didn't know why.
And beneath the noise of celebration, in the middle of a victory that should have been enough, I felt Amelie's gaze.
I didn't turn around.
But I knew she was there.
Hurting.
And no matter how much I tried to deny it, no matter how many reasons I gave myself ....
There were feelings
that simply couldn't be avoided.