The city stretched out beyond the glass walls of Ronan’s luxury apartment, glittering under the midnight sky. Inside, the air was warm, scented faintly of whiskey and expensive cologne. Soft amber light spilled from the sleek floor lamps, catching on the steel edges of the furniture and the deep leather couch in the corner.

On the king-sized bed — silk sheets tangled beneath them — Ronan had Elara pressed against the pillows. His lips trailed down the curve of her neck, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist with practiced ease. Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, everything felt like it always did — heated, physical, effortless.

Then it happened.

In the middle of a make-out, she exhaled one name.
“Alax…”

Ronan stilled. The name echoed in his head, cutting through the haze like a shard of glass. His eyes flicked up to hers — half-closed, pupils blown, completely unaware she’d just sliced through his ego.

He pulled back slightly, searching her face. She wasn’t really here. Her gaze was distant, soft in a way it had never been for him.

Without a word, he reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed, pulling it over her bare shoulders. As he was tucking it around her, her lips moved again, barely more than a whisper —
“Don’t go, Alax.”

The words sank deep, heavy, and deliberate, even if she didn’t know she’d said them.

Ronan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He dropped the blanket over her fully, straightened, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights painted his face in silver and shadow as he dug a cigarette from his side drawer. A flick of his lighter broke the quiet.

He leaned against the arm of the sleek leather sofa, one knee bent, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. Elara lay motionless on the bed, breathing slowly, eyes closed, already drifting into sleep.

His gaze didn’t leave her. dated many girls before, but this was different. Not because she mattered. No… it was because, even here, in his bed, wrapped in his sheets, she hadn’t been his at all.

A slow, humorless smile crept across his face.
“Alax, what’s so special about him?” he repeated under his breath, tasting the bitterness on his tongue. “Let’s see how long that name lasts.”

He took another drag, the ember glowing in the dark, and kept watching her — already plotting the next move.

The first hint of dawn crept through the massive glass windows, soft golden light spilling slowly across the room. The silk sheets glowed faintly in the warmth, and the air was still heavy with the faint scent of smoke and perfume.

Ronan hadn’t moved. He sat shirtless on the sleek leather sofa, one arm draped over the backrest, a half-burned cigarette resting in the ashtray beside him. His eyes hadn’t left her all night.

The sunlight shifted, sliding across the bed until it touched her face. Elara stirred, lashes fluttering. She blinked at the ceiling, still hazy, then turned her head toward the wall of windows — until her gaze caught him.

He didn’t speak. Just sat there, watching her.

A flush of awareness swept over her, and she instinctively pulled the blanket tighter around herself. Then the realization hit — like ice pouring through her veins. They’d slept together.

She didn’t ask. She didn’t want confirmation.

Silently, she wrapped the blanket around her body, her movements careful, almost too calm, as she slid off the bed. Her eyes avoided his completely while she bent to gather her clothes from the floor. The sound of fabric rustling was the only thing between them.

Ronan’s gaze tracked every step she took, slow and unblinking.

Elara walked to the bathroom without a word, closing the door behind her. The shower didn’t run. She stayed in there only a few minutes — long enough to put herself back together.

When she emerged, she was dressed, her hair slightly damp where she’d splashed her face with water. She glanced at him once, just once. No softness. No anger. Only a dull weight of regret in her eyes.

She didn’t shout. She didn’t demand an explanation. She simply walked to the door, her heels clicking softly against the floor, and left.

The apartment fell silent again, the sun now fully bathing the room in gold.

Ronan leaned back on the sofa, lips curling into the faintest smirk, though there was something darker beneath it. He lit another cigarette, the smoke curling toward the ceiling.

What bothered him — what stayed in his head — was that she hadn’t given him a single word.

Later, in the late morning in the college, the sun streamed through the hallway windows, catching on the designer watches and polished shoes of the group leaning against the wall. Ronan stood among them, hands in his pockets, his head tilted just enough to look like he was listening to the conversation — but his mind wasn’t there.

His friends, all from the same moneyed crowd, were still buzzing about the party.

“Hey, Ronan,” Mark grinned, elbowing him. “You left early. you were with someone?”

Ronan gave a short nod, offering nothing more.

James narrowed his eyes. “What happened? You seem… lost.”

“Just a little tired,” Ronan muttered. But it wasn’t tiredness.

He didn’t know what it was.

Then he saw her.

Elara.

She was walking down the hall with Alax, her laugh spilling out easily, her eyes bright as she said something to him. She moved like she belonged in her own world — a world where Ronan didn’t exist.

His eyes followed her, steady, unblinking.

He’d slept with more girls than he could remember. Faces blurred together, names forgotten by the next day. He never cared. But with her… it was different. And he didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because she’d said someone else’s name in his bed. Maybe it was because she’d walked out without a word. Maybe it was because right now, she was smiling at Alax like nothing had happened.

Or maybe it was just because she wasn’t giving him what every other girl did — attention.

She passed right in front of him without even a flicker of recognition, stepping into the classroom with Alax behind her.

Inside, she sat down, still talking, smiling.

Ronan stayed where he was, his friends’ voices fading into background noise. His eyes didn’t leave her. And the more he looked, the more it bothered him — not knowing why she was bothering him at all.

After last class, students spilled out of the classroom in clusters, voices echoing down the hall. Ronan leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on one person.

Elara.

She slipped out alone, no Alax at her side, her gaze straight ahead.

Ronan’s stride was slow but deliberate as he followed, weaving through the crowd. He was only a few steps behind when she turned and disappeared into the washroom.

He stopped, leaning casually against the wall. A group of girls walked past, glancing at him, smiling in that way they always did — like they wouldn’t mind being the next one to spend a night in his bed. Normally, he’d give them a look, a smirk, maybe more. Today, he didn’t even blink.

He was waiting.

When Elara finally stepped out, her hair slightly damp where she’d splashed her face, she barely had time to take two steps before his hand closed around her arm. Without a word, he pulled her down the corridor into a quiet, empty corner.

Her back hit the wall, his body angled close enough to block her in. Her head brushed against his chin, and she instinctively tilted it up.

And just like that — they were staring at each other. Barely an inch of space between them.

Something in Ronan’s chest twisted. He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t name it. All he knew was that her eyes had him locked in place.

Until she shoved him.

“What’s the matter with you?” she snapped, her voice sharp but controlled.

Ronan caught her wrist before she could pull away and pinned it against the wall, leaning in again. His voice dropped, low and edged.
“Why are you ignoring me?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “We’re not close enough to ignore each other,” she said, her tone calm, deliberate. “We’re just… nothing.”

Something in him flared. No one — no one — ever made him feel small.

His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. She shoved him again, harder this time, breaking free. She turned to leave —

“I’m the one you lost your virginity to. A few hours ago, you were in my bed. How can you forget that?” he said, his voice cutting through the empty hallway.

She froze.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, the only sign of the anger that tightened her shoulders. For a few seconds, she didn’t turn. When she did, her eyes were cold.

“I don’t care,” she said evenly. Then her mouth curved, just a fraction. “But it seems you do. A lot.”

And without waiting for his reply, she walked away, heels tapping against the floor, leaving him alone in the quiet corner with her words still burning in his head.