The party raged on.  

The client and a few of the women were still laughing in the center of the room, spinning under the colored lights.  

The manager hovered nearby, all smiles and flattery, raising one glass after another.  

But at the edge of the table, things had gone quiet.  

Only Evan and Sienna sat side by side, the noise around them fading into a dull hum.  

The liquor burned his throat, his head felt heavy—but inside, he was painfully awake.  

That was when the truth hit him:  

He couldn’t even afford to tip.  

Sitting next to a woman like her only made the imbalance sharper, more humiliating.  

*I shouldn’t even be here,* he thought.  

The shame pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.  

Then Sienna spoke.  

Her voice was low but clear, cutting through the noise like a cold edge.  

“Do you know there was a fire here last month?”  

Evan froze. His hand tightened around the glass until it nearly slipped.  

He turned, staring at her profile.  

“…I saw it on the news,” he murmured, voice hoarse.  

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes calm and unreadable.  

“You were there that night, weren’t you? Outside.”  

The words landed like a jolt.  

His pulse stuttered, heat flooding his chest even as the room spun.  

She knew.  

He’d thought he was just a face in the crowd—one more stranger in the smoke.  

But she had seen him.  

“I…”  

He tried to speak, but the words tangled and fell apart.  

The memories came rushing back—the thick smoke, the flashing lights, the cold tape across the street.  

He remembered standing there, helpless, waiting for her to appear.  

And when she finally did—alive, coughing, but safe—he’d turned away.  

He hadn’t called out, hadn’t stayed.  

He’d just left.  

“Yeah,” he said at last, voice barely audible. “I was there.”  

Sienna’s expression didn’t change.  

“I figured.”  

Three quiet words.  

No warmth, no accusation. Just fact.  

Evan’s heart thudded painfully.  

He wanted to ask *why* she brought it up.  

He wanted to ask *if* she cared.  

But the weight of the night, the alcohol, and everything he wasn’t stopped him.  

So he just managed a faint smile and whispered,  

“When I saw you walk out, I… I felt relieved.”  

The words came out small, almost lost in the music.  

Sienna didn’t answer.  

She simply turned her gaze back to the table, as if nothing had been said.  

The laughter and clinking glasses swelled again, swallowing the quiet moment whole.  

Evan sat there, feeling like the punchline to some private joke.  

That brief conversation had split something open inside him—  

a crack filled with both comfort and despair.  

Because even now, after all that, he understood.  

Noticing him didn’t mean anything.  

Her world was still far beyond his reach.