At 8 o'clock, our team arrived at the venue—a grand star hotel owned by NK Group, spacious enough for thousands of employees to celebrate freely. The air was alive with chatter, laughter, and clinking glasses. Waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of drinks, and for one night every year, there were no hierarchies here—no boss, no employee. Everyone was equal.
Henry Roy, the man at the top, always made sure of that. He believed that the company's success belonged to its employees, and he never failed to acknowledge their hard work. His speeches always carried that message, and as I listened, I couldn't help but agree. Employees deserved appreciation. It fueled growth.
But tonight, I wasn't in the mood to feel inspired. I drank more than I should, letting the alcohol numb me, trying to silence the conversation I'd had with Mia earlier. The more the higher-ups spoke, the deeper I sank into my thoughts.
Then came the announcement:
"Everyone must dance until the music stops. When the song changes, switch partners!"
The hall erupted into cheers. Pairs formed quickly. I froze for a second until my director—uncle to me—approached with a grin.
"Emily, come on. Let's set the stage on fire!"
My eyes widened. Fire? I could barely stand.
"Uncle… I'm drunk."
His smile faltered, shock flickering across his face. He knew I didn't drink at parties. His concern was immediate.
"What is this, Emily? Your first annual party, and you're ruining it like this? Fine, I'll hold you up. Just act like you're dancing, alright?"
I nodded faintly. Soon, we were swaying under the lights, though it was more him carrying me than us actually dancing. My heels wobbled, my body swayed, but his grip kept me steady.
The music shifted. Time to switch partners.
"Be careful with the next one," he murmured before stepping aside.
And then—I was caught. A strong arm around my waist, a firm hand clasping mine. My free hand rested on his shoulder for balance. The scent of him—clean, addictive—distracted me even through my haze. I kept my gaze down, ashamed of my drunken state.
Then, without warning, he pulled me closer. My heart raced. His chest was solid against me, his presence overwhelming. His husky voice sent a shiver down my spine.
"When a couple dances, it's a rule to maintain eye contact, honey. Don't you know that, honey?"
I forced my gaze upward. My breath caught. His eyes—blue, deep, alive yet uncertain—pulled me in like a riptide.
"I… I know. But I'm drunk. Normally, I'm a good dancer. Not right now…"
I stumbled again, but his hold tightened.
"Woah, easy, honey."
The warmth of his touch rattled me.
"I need… air. You go ahead. I'll be back."
I tried stepping away, but the alcohol betrayed me. People stared as I wavered. Embarrassment burned my cheeks. Then, he appeared beside me again, steadying me. He dialed someone quickly, excusing himself, then guided me out of the hall.
In the quiet of a private room, I turned to thank him—only to freeze.
"Noah…"
He was there, staring at me, his eyes full of something I had longed for—love. My heart leapt. Without thinking, I rushed to him, tiptoeing to press my lips against his. He kissed me back, hungry and desperate. The world vanished in that kiss.
But reality struck like lightning. His touch felt… different. Stronger. Rougher. My eyes flew open.
It wasn't Noah.
It was him—the man I had danced with.
Horror washed over me. Tears spilled.
"I-I'm sorry, sir. I thought… I thought you were Noah. I'm drunk, I mistook you for him."
He frowned, then asked, "Who's Noah?"
"My boyfriend." The name broke me, and my tears doubled.
He chuckled softly. "You assumed I was your boyfriend?"
"Yes…"
"Relax. I won't do anything to you."
Still, the closeness was dangerous. Anyone walking in would think we were… involved. I lowered my voice, pleading.
"Please, put me down. If anyone sees us like this…"
His eyes flickered, as though realizing the position only now. He gently set me down.
"What's your name?" I asked softly, wanting to break the tension.
"Better if you don't know," he teased.
Flustered, I tried to leave. "Alright, goodbye—"
But he grabbed my wrist. My heart stopped.
"If I tell you to wait, then wait. You're in no state to walk out on your own."
His grip was firm, commanding. Annoying, yet protective. I didn't argue. Soon, he brought me sober soup, insisting I drink. Before he left, someone knocked, and I was left with my colleague Riya, who helped me home.
My mother scolded me for my condition, but my brother defended me, saying I deserved to have fun. If only they knew I wasn't drinking for fun, but to drown my pain.
Upstairs, my sister signaled that Noah was waiting in my room. My heart twisted. I hurried inside, shutting the door.
"Noah…"
But he wasn't smiling. His face was stormy, his eyes burning with anger.
I tried to soothe him. "What happened? Why are you so angry?"
His voice was sharp. "Mia asked me to meet her today."
My chest tightened. "Why?"
"She accused me of cheating on you. Said I used you."
I froze. I already knew. Mia had sent me the video earlier—their conversation, Noah's confession. He had admitted he didn't love me, that he was only with me because I refused to let him go. That his heart truly belonged to Mia.
I asked quietly, "Noah… did you really say that?"
"Do you believe her over me?"
"No, I believe you. That's why I'm asking."
His face paled. I continued, my voice trembling.
"Don't act innocent. I heard everything. The video… I listened to it again and again. You said you love Mia. That you're only with me because I'm crying and begging you to stay. You even said I forced you into marriage."
He didn't deny it. Silence was his answer.
Tears blurred my vision as my anger surged.
"You never loved me, did you? You ignored my calls, answered hers. You didn't care when I was sick. You made me feel worthless. And yet… I loved you."
Sobs racked my body. My brother knocked on my door, concerned, but I lied that I was watching a sad movie.
Gathering the last of my strength, I asked, "Noah, at least now… tell me the truth. Did you ever love me?"
Silence again.
That was enough.
I kissed him one last time, then pulled away and slapped him hard.
"Get out of my sight. Now!"
He stumbled toward the window, muttering, "I'm sorry, Emily."
"Sorry?" I whispered bitterly, collapsing to the cold floor. My tears soaked into it as I cried myself into exhaustion.