The night wind carried a cool edge, city lights still pulsing in neon waves.  

Outside the hotel, guests came and went—drivers calling, laughter spilling, a steady rhythm of noise.  

Evan stood at the edge of the crowd, his heart beating far too fast.  

This was the second time he’d seen her.  

Maybe the only time he’d ever get the chance to speak again.  

If he walked away now, she’d become nothing more than a name he once remembered.

“Sienna.”

The word scraped out of his throat, fragile and uncertain.

She turned, surprised for a moment, before recognition softened her face.  

The glow from the hotel lights framed her in gold.

“Didn’t expect to see you again.”  

Her tone was calm, almost casual—yet it steadied him.

He took a breath, hands trembling slightly.  

“Could I… maybe have your contact?”

For a heartbeat, the noise around them disappeared.  

Every pulse of his heart filled the silence.  

Sienna studied him, her gaze cool but curious.  

There was caution there, the kind that came from years of reading people.  

Seconds stretched thin.

Just as he was about to stammer something else, she smiled faintly.  

“You sure you want it?”  

Her voice had a teasing lilt, not quite rejection, not quite consent.  

Evan nodded, trying to keep his voice steady.  

“Yeah. Even if it’s just… to talk sometimes.”

She looked at him for another long moment, then slipped a small card into his hand.  

“Here.”

Then she turned back to her guests, slipping effortlessly into her practiced grace.  

He glanced down.  

A single username printed neatly across the card.  

His heart kicked hard against his ribs.

Back home, his apartment felt even smaller than usual.  

He sat on the bed, the screen glowing in the dark, her contact hovering in his messages app.  

*Would it be too soon?*  

*Would she even remember me?*  

*Should I wait a few days?*

He argued with himself until the words blurred.  

Then, finally, he took a deep breath, typed her username, and hit send.

A friend request, off into the void.

The next morning, he woke before the alarm, checked his phone, and froze.

“Accepted.”

For a few seconds, he couldn’t breathe.  

His palms grew damp.  

The small chat window stared back at him, empty and expectant.

After a long pause, he typed the simplest thing he could think of:

**[Good morning.]**

Immediately, he regretted it.  

Too plain. Too safe. Too him.  

But it was too late.

Hours passed before a new message appeared.  

**[Morning.]**

Just one word—but enough to make him smile.

In the days that followed, their messages came in small exchanges.

**[Rough day?]**  

**[Not bad. Taking a break.]**

**[Raining here. How’s it there?]**  

**[Sunny.]**

Sienna’s tone was always measured—short, never rude, never warm.  

She didn’t start conversations, but she never shut them down either.

For him, that was enough.  

Every reply meant she hadn’t turned away.

One late night, unable to sleep, Evan opened their chat again.  

He hesitated, typing slowly.

**[Thanks… for giving me your contact that night.]**

Minutes passed before the screen lit up.  

**[It’s nothing.]**  

Then, a second message.  

**[You just didn’t seem like the others.]**

He stared at the words, heart pounding.  

Something in his chest stirred—hope, maybe, or something softer, harder to name.

And for the first time, he couldn’t look away from the screen.