The city pulsed beneath a low, heavy night.

Evan sat at his desk, staring at a spreadsheet until the numbers blurred.  

His eyes were dry, his coffee cold, its bitterness clinging to the air.  

*Just a little longer,* he told himself.  

Then his supervisor leaned over the divider.  

“Evan, you’re free tonight, right? We’ve got a client dinner. You’re coming.”

It wasn’t a request.  

Evan hesitated, searching for an excuse, but one look at his boss’s eyes and he knew better.  

He forced a smile. “Sure.”  

Inside, his stomach sank.

The dinner wasn’t a dinner at all.  

It was a lounge inside a hotel he’d never been to, its neon sign burning bright against the night.  

Music and laughter spilled from the doorway—an entirely different world.  

Evan followed his colleagues in, feeling like an extra who’d wandered onto the wrong set.  

The private room smelled of perfume and alcohol the moment the door opened.  

Dim lights, velvet laughter, women in sleek dresses drifting toward the men.  

He sat stiffly, hands pressed to his thighs.  

Then a soft scent brushed past him.  

A woman in a black dress took the seat beside him, moving with quiet confidence.  

“First time here?” she asked, her smile barely there—half polite, half curious.

His heart lurched. He almost forgot to breathe.  

“Yeah… not really my thing,” he admitted.

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment, then slid the bottle toward him.  

“In here, everyone wears a mask. Which one do you want to wear?”

The question caught him off guard.  

He looked down at the glass in his hand.  

“I just want this to be over.”

She blinked, then laughed—a real laugh, soft but unguarded.  

“You’re funny.”

Heat crept up his neck. He couldn’t look at her.  

Around them, the noise of clinking glasses and drunken talk blurred into something distant.  

All he could hear was her breath beside him.

“I’m Sienna,” she said, offering her hand.  

He hesitated, then reached out. Her palm was cool against his fingertips.  

“Evan.”

For a moment, the noise seemed to fall away.

Hours slipped by.  

His coworkers grew loud, sloppy, tangled in laughter.  

Evan barely drank—just enough to keep up appearances. Mostly, he watched.

Sienna was different.  

She didn’t push conversation, didn’t cling to anyone.  

She just sat near him, asked a few quiet questions, and smiled once in a while.

“You don’t look like the type who comes here often,” she teased.

He chuckled. “Dragged in.”

“I figured.”  

Her smile warmed, easy and unforced.  

Something in him eased. For the first time that night, he felt seen.

When the night finally ended, the hall reeked of alcohol and cheap cologne.  

Evan followed the others out, breathing in the cool air.  

He turned once, and saw her at the doorway—Sienna, her face softened by that same faint smile.  

Not a professional one. Something gentler.  

Before he could say anything, she turned away and disappeared into the light.

—

His apartment was small, the walls thin.  

He sat on the bed, staring at his phone screen.  

Her face lingered in his mind—the calm eyes, the cool touch of her hand, the way she’d said, *You’re funny.*

He rubbed his face, muttering, “I’m losing it.”

But the thought stayed.  

He wanted to see her again.  

To know more.  

The phone screen blinked on and off, glowing like a quiet pair of eyes.  

His finger hovered, scrolling through names that meant nothing.

Then he made a silent decision:  

If he ever had the chance, he’d ask for her number.  

Even if it was just to say hello.