The sound of frying oil hissed through the small kitchen as Mia flipped the plantains with quick, practiced movements. The scent of food filled the tiny apartment — onions, oil, and the comforting warmth of home.
"Don't burn it this time, Mia!" her mother called from the living room, her voice half-serious, half-laughing.
Mia rolled her eyes, grinning. "Relax, Mom! I may dress like a boy, but I can still handle a frying pan."
From the corner, her older sister Bella smirked. "You mean barely handle. Last week you almost burned down the kitchen, remember?"
Mia shot her a mock glare. "That was one time!"
She flipped another golden piece onto the plate, the corners of her lips curving upward. Her loose gray T-shirt hung off her shoulder, her jeans faded and ripped. Her hair, always in a messy ponytail, had a few wild strands falling around her face — a face both fierce and innocent, with sharp brown eyes that carried more fire than most girls her age.
Her mother shook her head fondly. "If only you'd act like a lady sometimes."
"Ladies are overrated," Mia said proudly, setting the food on the table. "Besides, who needs lipstick when you've got confidence?"
They laughed — that easy, familiar kind of laughter that made the small room feel rich despite the cracks on the walls.
---
The Girl With a Simple Dream
Mia came from little, but her world was full of love. Her father drove a cab through the night, her mother worked long hours at a diner, and Bella juggled part-time jobs to help pay for college.
Mia was the baby of the house — twenty, full of energy, and determined to finish her studies so she could give her parents a better life. She didn't have much, but she had purpose.
At least, until that night — the night everything changed.
---
The Invitation
"Come on, Mia, don't bail on me again," said Jordan, her best friend, flashing her a grin as they walked across campus. "It's the end-of-semester party. Everyone's going!"
Mia frowned. "You know I hate parties."
He raised a brow. "You promised. I even bought you fries. Fries are sacred deals."
Mia laughed despite herself. "Fine. But if I die of boredom, it's your fault."
Jordan had been her best friend since freshman year — the kind of guy who always stood by her, even when she punched a senior for calling her 'one of the boys.' Everyone teased that he liked her, but Mia never believed it. She didn't see herself that way — she was tough, unpolished, and too busy dreaming of survival to think about romance.
---
A World Too Fancy
That evening, she arrived at the rooftop party and instantly regretted it. The place sparkled with expensive lights and people who smelled like money. Girls wore glittering dresses that shimmered under the city skyline, and guys strutted in designer suits.
Mia tugged at her old denim jacket, feeling out of place.
Jordan leaned closer. "You look great. Don't overthink it."
She smiled faintly. "Tell that to their six-inch heels and perfect hair."
He laughed, but she could see it — how his eyes lingered on her, how he admired her even when she felt invisible.
Still, Mia couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't belong there.
---
The Stranger
That's when she saw him.
He sat alone at the rooftop bar — tall, calm, and dangerously magnetic. His suit fit like it was made for him; his dark hair framed a face that looked sculpted, and his eyes held the kind of quiet power that made people turn to look twice.
Their eyes met. Just for a second.
Something inside her chest tightened — a spark she didn't understand.
"Mia?" Jordan's voice broke the moment. "You okay?"
She blinked. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
But her thoughts kept drifting back to that stranger at the bar, the one whose gaze had felt like a whisper across her skin.
---
Rain and Recklessness
Hours later, the party was over. The sky broke open with rain, pouring over the glittering city. Mia stood outside, clutching her jacket. Her phone battery was dead, and Jordan had left early.
She could have gone home. She should have.
But her feet led her back inside, to the hotel bar downstairs — quiet, dim, and safe from the storm.
She ordered water, sitting alone by the window. Raindrops streaked down the glass like silver threads, and she traced one with her finger, lost in thought.
Then a low voice broke the silence beside her.
"You don't seem like someone who belongs at parties like that."
Her head turned. It was him — the man from the rooftop.
"Excuse me?" she asked, startled.
He turned toward her, his dark eyes unreadable yet strangely warm. "You look too real for that crowd."
Mia blinked, caught off guard. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he said quietly, "you stand out."
She hesitated, unsure whether to be flattered or annoyed. "You always talk to strangers like this?"
"Only the ones who make it impossible not to."
The corner of his lips tilted slightly. "Ryker."
"Mia."
---
The Pull
They talked for hours. About nothing and everything — life, work, dreams. She didn't know who he really was, and he didn't tell. But his words held weight, and his voice, low and deep, stirred something she'd never felt before.
When he smiled, it wasn't practiced like the others at the party. It was faint and real — the kind of smile that made you forget where you were.
She should have walked away when the rain stopped.
But she didn't.
She stayed — drawn to the warmth in his voice, the gentleness hidden beneath his cool exterior.
When he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, she froze — not because she was afraid, but because she didn't want him to stop.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
And when his fingers lingered, her world seemed to tilt.
---
The Night That Changed Everything
What happened next blurred like a dream — the soft hum of the elevator, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his hand felt against hers.
It wasn't planned. It wasn't meant to happen.
It was a moment of weakness… and something far deeper.
He kissed her — gently at first, like a question. Then the world faded around them. The storm outside, the noise, the fear — all gone. There was only his warmth, his breath, and the ache of something that felt too real.
When she woke the next morning, he was gone.
The sheets were cold, and on the bedside table lay a single note:
> "You deserve the world, even if it's not mine to give."
No name. No number. Nothing.
Just silence — and the echo of his voice in her mind.
Mia sat there for a long time, her heart racing, her thoughts a storm she couldn't calm.
By the time she got home, dawn had broken. Her mother scolded her for staying out late, and Bella teased her without mercy.
But Mia said nothing.
She locked that night deep inside her heart, convincing herself it meant nothing.
What she didn't know was that fate wasn't done with her — not yet.
Because weeks later, she would walk into a new job interview… and find herself face-to-face with Ryker Hale.
The man who had changed everything .