Evan pulled into the parking lot, letting the city noise fade behind them—just a muffled car horn, a thump of footsteps, the hum of streetlights buzzing overhead. He found a spot close to the entrance, killed the engine, and for a second, nobody moved.
Lena was the first to stir. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.
"Already?" she mumbled.
Evan grinned. "You were about five seconds from passing out."
She just shrugged, not the least bit sorry. "It was cozy."
From the back, Lara stretched and groaned. "Wow. Didn't even get a chance to grumble about the drive."
"You still can," Evan said, taking off his seatbelt.
Lara waved him off. "Too stuffed to care."
They climbed out together. The air felt cooler, quieter here. Lena shifted the bouquet in her arms as they headed for the building.
At the entrance, Lara slowed, digging through her bag. "Alright, I'm going up."
Lena blinked at her. "You're not waiting?"
Lara shot her a look. "You really want me hanging around for the awkward goodbye?"
"Lara—"
"I'll see you upstairs," she said, already pushing through the door. She glanced back at Evan, half-smiling. "Thanks for dinner."
"Anytime," Evan said.
She vanished inside, clearly pleased with herself.
The silence that followed felt different. Lena hugged the flowers closer. "She did that on purpose."
Evan laughed. "Obviously."
Neither of them moved.
"Thank you," Lena said, her voice soft. "For tonight."
Evan met her eyes. "I meant what I said. I'm proud of you."
Her throat went tight. She stepped in and hugged him—slow and real, no rush. Evan's hand settled at her back, steady.
Before she could let go, he gently took the bouquet from her.
She caught her breath. "What—"
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch careful, lingering just a bit too long.
"This," he said quietly.
He leaned in, slow, waiting—letting her choose.
But she rose up on her toes first.
Their lips met—soft, patient, nothing hurried. Just warmth and something new, like they were figuring each other out for the first time.
Evan's hand rested at her waist. Lena clung to his jacket, grounded, sure.
For a moment, it was just the two of them. Breath, closeness, the simple fact that this was exactly where she wanted to be.
When they finally broke apart, Lena kept her eyes closed an extra second.
Evan rested his forehead against hers.
"Goodnight, Lena."
She opened her eyes, smiling. "Goodnight, Evan."
They lingered for a beat, then she pulled back, her fingers brushing his one last time. She turned to go, but paused, glancing over her shoulder—soft smile, completely unguarded.
Evan watched until she disappeared. Only then did he let out a breath and head for his car.
The door clicked shut behind her, sounding weirdly final.
Lena stood for a moment, staring at the empty hallway—half-expecting him to show up again. When the quiet finally settled, she turned.
Lara leaned against the wall, arms crossed, grinning.
"Don't," Lena warned.
"I haven't said a word," Lara replied, all innocence.
"You're about to."
"I'm just watching," she said. "Very closely."
Lena kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the couch, face buried in a cushion. "You're impossible."
"And you," Lara said, dropping beside her, "are glowing."
"Stop," Lena groaned into the pillow.
"So," Lara pressed.
"So what?"
"That kiss."
Lena shot upright. "You promised!"
"I promised not to tease," Lara said. "Didn't say I wouldn't be curious."
Lena looked away. "…It was just a kiss."
"Sure," Lara hummed. "And?"
"And nothing."
Lara let it go—for now. The grin didn't fade.
Lena leaned back, finally letting herself relax. At least, for tonight, the interrogation was over.
---------
Evan merged onto the main road, the apartment building shrinking in his rearview. The city lights stretched ahead—calm, steady, almost inviting.
He glanced at the dash. 9:30 p.m. Way earlier than he thought it'd be.
He wandered over to the window, looking out at the city spread beneath him. Somewhere out there, Lena had probably made it home by now.
He checked his watch again. Still early.
Evan sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. Looked like this was going to be one of those long, quiet nights.
Suddenly, He spotted his Eastwood Heights apartment building from the road, its glass facade shining under the night sky. The entrance was bright, the lobby visible from outside, and the nameplate on the wall made it clear which tower it was.
He rolled up to the underground parking, and there was a security booth up ahead. A guard stepped out, uniform crisp, hand lifted in greeting.
"Good evening, sir," the guard said, keeping things friendly but watchful. "Resident or visitor?"
Evan slowed down and rolled down his window. "Resident."
The guard gave him a quick once-over, then looked at the car. "Your apartment number?"
"D-1703," Evan said, no hesitation.
The guard tapped something on his tablet, quick and practiced. Just a second, then he nodded. "Welcome back, sir."
The gate slid up without a sound.
Evan pulled in, and the gate closed behind him with that smooth, electric hum. The garage looked almost too perfect—polished floors, crisp lines marking every spot, everything so quiet his engine echoed like he was the only one there.
He parked where security told him, right by the elevator. The place still smelled new, like he was about to start a whole different life and this was where it began.
He cut the engine and just sat for a second, soaking up the calm. This building—expensive, spotless, organized—felt built to make you relax, to convince you nothing bad could ever happen here.
He grabbed his bag, stepped out, and locked the car. The cool air inside the garage carried a faint whiff of fresh paint. His footsteps echoed a little as he headed for the elevator.
When the doors opened with a soft ding, he caught his own reflection in the mirrors—red eyes, hair a mess from the drive. He pressed his floor and leaned back, feeling the elevator's slow climb.
That's when his mind went to Lena. Her smile. The way she looked at him tonight. That kiss at the entrance. He almost let himself replay it all, but no—now wasn't the time to get lost like that.
The elevator stopped on 17. The doors glided open. The hallway waited—dim lights, quiet, the faint smell of new carpet and fresh wood.
He walked down the hall, keycard ready. Paused at his door. Took a breath.
He'd never been inside before. This was it—the first time stepping into his own place.
His hand hovered over the keycard. The air felt heavier, like he was about to break some kind of spell. He swiped. The lock clicked.
He pushed open the door.
Inside, the apartment almost glared back at him with its brightness. Clean. Empty. Not a single personal thing in sight. No history, no mess, nothing to say anyone had ever lived here.
Everything looked almost too good—living room with big windows, kitchen with shiny counters, bedroom blank as a fresh canvas. The silence pressed in, thick and strange.
Evan stepped in and let the door close behind him. He wandered through the place, taking it all in, slow. It felt weird—like he was trespassing in someone else's life.
He set his bag down, flicked on the lights. The room glowed, showing off just how untouched everything was.
He walked into the kitchen, poured himself some water, and leaned against the counter. The quiet was back, heavier than before.
Evan took a slow sip of water, letting the coolness settle his nerves. He set the glass on the counter and wandered through the apartment, almost like he still wasn't convinced this place was really his.
The living room felt wide open—modern, sharp edges, barely any decoration. Everything looked untouched, like he'd stumbled into someone else's story.
He drifted down the hallway, passing the guest bathroom, the study, and then—he stopped at the master bedroom door. His hand hovered over the handle. He listened. Nothing. The silence pressed in, somehow louder than any noise.
He swallowed and pushed the door open.
The bedroom was bigger than he'd pictured. A massive bed sat in the middle, made up with crisp white sheets and a dark grey comforter. The curtains were drawn, but city light still slipped through the cracks, splashing gold lines across the floor.
But on the bed, someone had left a small bouquet, all neatly wrapped. Another note peeped out from the stems.
He reached for it. His own name stared back at him, written in handwriting he'd know anywhere.
"I knew you'd come here tonight. – Maya"
He just stood there, reading it over and over, until the quiet started to feel a little warmer, like maybe he wasn't so alone after all.
Then his phone started buzzing.
Incoming call.
The screen flashed: EMILY.
Evan's heart skipped. He picked up right away. "Emily?"
******