CH.7

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Elara stepped in, her expression calm but distant, still processing the adrenaline that hadn't quite left her system. Ethan followed, holding his blazer over one arm, tie slightly loosened.

Neither spoke on the ride up. Not out of tension—but a comfortable silence, heavy with the weight of what had just been accomplished.

The pitch had gone better than even they expected. Investors nodded. Eyes stayed locked on them. Every word landed. Every slide hit its mark. And when they finished, the room was quiet—for one charged moment—before applause broke through.

They hadn't smiled then.

But now, in the quiet glass box ascending to the 19th floor, a small curve tugged at Elara's lips.

Ethan noticed, and his voice was low. "That was clean."

She glanced at him sideways. "It was effective."

"You always undersell it," he murmured.

"Better than overhyping it."

The elevator dinged.

Their rooms waited across from each other, but neither moved to unlock a door.

Instead, Elara looked down the hall. "Hungry?"

Ethan tilted his head. "A little."

"Dinner on the terrace?" she asked, casual but deliberate.

He didn't hesitate. "Let's go."

The 21st floor terrace wasn't crowded. Just a few quiet guests and the golden afterglow of the setting sun. Their table overlooked the city, buildings twinkling under an indigo sky.

They ordered light—grilled vegetables, lemon-butter fish, soft warm bread. The conversation started slow, focused on business debriefs, but soon slid into quieter territories.

"What made you pitch that restructuring angle?" Elara asked, sipping water.

Ethan looked out at the skyline before answering. "You always speak in strategy. I wanted to shift their focus into vision."

"You knew I'd follow your lead."

"You always do. When it makes sense."

Elara gave a small nod, appreciative. "You read a room well."

Ethan leaned back. "You silence it."

That made her pause. But she didn't deny it.

As dessert arrived—simple slices of honey-drizzled fruit—they sat in a silence that didn't need breaking.

Then Ethan said quietly, "I wasn't sure this... partnership would work."

Elara looked at him, the candlelight flickering between them. "Neither was I."

"And now?"

She didn't answer right away. Just looked at him, her gaze softer than usual. "Now I'm starting to think we might be good at this."

Ethan smiled—rare, but this time it reached his eyes. "We already are."

They didn't linger much longer. But when they returned to their floor and paused in the hallway once again, something had shifted.

"Good night," Elara said, voice gentler than before.

"Good night, Elara."

She turned to her door, but before stepping inside, she glanced over her shoulder. "Ethan?"

He looked up.

"I'm glad it was you."

And just like that, she disappeared into her suite, leaving Ethan alone in the corridor—with the faintest smile still lingering on his face.

 CH.8

The soft chime of her phone broke the silence.

Elara, still half-lost in the glowing city lights beyond the glass wall of her suite, turned away from the view and glanced at the screen. "Mom Calling."

She hesitated for a second—then answered.

"Hello?"

Her mother's voice was gentle, familiar, and laced with warmth. "You didn't send an update. Everything alright, beta?"

Elara walked toward the window again, her voice quiet. "The pitch went well. Investors are on board."

"That's wonderful." A pause, then a softer question. "Did Ethan help?"

Elara's eyes flickered. "He did. He was... calm. Balanced."

"Good. It's important you two learn to move together, like a team."

Elara leaned against the window, her reflection faint beside the night skyline. "We're figuring it out. Slowly."

There was silence on the line for a beat, then a light laugh. "That's how good things begin."

Just then, a gentle knock came at her door.

She turned, surprised.

"I'll call you back," she said quickly and ended the call.

Opening the door, she found Ethan standing there, casual but composed, holding a mug of coffee.

"I figured you'd be up," he said.

She stepped aside, letting him in wordlessly.

"Everything alright?" he asked, noticing the slight crease on her forehead.

"My mom called. Wanted updates. Typical."

Ethan gave a small smile and handed her the second cup. "Black. No sugar. Just like you."

Elara smirked. "How do you remember that?"

"I notice things."

They stood near the couch, sipping quietly.

"She asked about you," Elara said after a beat.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And what did you say?"

"That we're figuring it out. Slowly."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "That sounds fair."

Another silence settled, but this one felt safe. Like neither of them was in a hurry to fill it.

Then Ethan spoke, voice softer than usual. "My grandfather called too."

Elara looked at him, curious.

"He asked if I'd started seeing you... not as a partner in business, but as something more."

Elara blinked, caught off guard. "And?"

"I told him I'm trying to understand you beyond the file on your desk. And I think I am."

The flicker in her eyes softened.

They didn't say more. No confessions. No drama. Just quiet understanding, and the echo of two hearts beginning to align.

Later, when Ethan left and Elara closed the door behind him, she found herself smiling faintly.

For the first time, the silence of the suite didn't feel so lonely.