Why would anything be wrong?

The morning sun spilled through the tall windows of my bedroom, bathing everything in a soft glow. I stood in front of my closet, flipping through my clothes with practiced efficiency.

I didn't have much time, and being late wasn't an option—not for work, not for anything. It was a habit drilled into me, one I couldn't break even if I wanted to.

I settled on a simple black blouse and tailored pants, slipping them on quickly before heading to the bathroom to fix my hair.

My reflection stared back at me, cool and composed as always, but my thoughts were far from calm.

Layla had been on my mind all night, her voice, her laugh, her everything. She was a storm that had swept through my meticulously controlled life, leaving chaos in her wake. And I couldn't bring myself to mind.