When i first met him

The air smelled of rain and dust that afternoon, the kind of scent that clung to Sera's skin and filled her lungs as she stepped out of the towering glass building that housed her prison of a workplace. The clouds above churned in slow circles, heavy with the promise of a storm that hadn't yet broken. The world felt still, as if holding its breath.

Her heels clicked on the pavement, a steady rhythm that echoed in her mind along with the beating of her heart. Sera hated this part of the day - the hollow emptiness that came after work, when the mask she wore all day started to crack. When the weight of pretending to be strong, confident, unbothered by William Moro's dark charm, became too much to bear.

She hugged her thin coat tighter around herself. In one hand, she carried the lunch she hadn't touched all day: a small box packed that morning in hope, and abandoned in despair. She had no appetite when she sat beneath William's gaze, no courage to eat when his presence filled the room like a stormcloud.

As she turned the corner onto a quieter street, her steps slowed. That's when she saw him.

He sat on the curb, hunched over, his head bowed, as if the very weight of the world pressed on his shoulders. His clothes were worn and frayed at the edges, the kind that told stories of cold nights and endless wandering. His hair, dark and slightly overgrown, fell into his face, hiding his features. To Sera, he looked like a shadow of a man, someone forgotten by the world.

Her heart squeezed painfully. She should have walked past. She should have looked away like everyone else. But something - something she couldn't explain - rooted her to the spot.

Maybe it was the way he held himself, proud despite his circumstances. Maybe it was the quiet dignity in the way he didn't lift his head to beg, didn't stretch out his hand in pleading. He just sat there, silent, as if waiting for the world to notice him.

And in that moment, Sera noticed.

She hesitated. Her mind screamed at her to keep walking. Don't get involved. You can't even save yourself. What can you possibly offer a man like that?

But her heart, always softer than it should have been, betrayed her.

"I… I don't have any money," she said, her voice small, breaking the heavy silence. "But you can take this. It's my lunch. I haven't touched it."

Her hand trembled slightly as she held out the box.

For a long moment, he didn't move. Then slowly, he lifted his head.

Their eyes met.

Sera felt the world tilt.

His eyes were unlike any she'd ever seen. A deep, stormy gray, framed by long lashes that didn't seem to belong on a man. They held stories - so many stories - and in that one glance, Sera felt as if she'd fallen into them, as if she could drown in their depths.

But then the voice in her head returned, cruel and sharp. He's just a beggar. What are you doing? You're weak enough as it is. Don't add more weight to your shoulders.

Her cheeks burned with shame at her own thoughts.

He didn't speak. He simply took the box, his fingers brushing hers for the briefest second. The touch sent a strange warmth through her, as if he had passed a spark into her skin.

Without another word, Sera stepped back. Her heart ached, wanting to stay, to ask him his name, to sit beside him in the gathering dark. But her mind - always so afraid, always so convinced of her own weakness - forced her feet to move.

And so she walked away.

The rain began to fall as she turned the next corner. Soft at first, then harder, until the world was washed clean by silver sheets.

She didn't look back. She didn't see the way he watched her retreating figure, the way his lips parted as if to call after her, and then closed again.

Adam sat there, the box of food in his hands, untouched. The warmth of her kindness lingered in his fingers.

For so long, he had hidden from the world, tired of faces that judged, eyes that saw only what they wished to see. But this woman… she had looked at him as if she truly saw him.

Her voice echoed in his mind. I don't have any money… I'm sorry… you can take my lunch instead.

Adam's lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. He rose slowly to his feet, the rain soaking him, flattening his dark hair against his forehead.

He turned, walking with a purposeful stride towards the nearby building.

To the world, he had appeared a beggar, a lost soul in tattered clothing. But as he reached the glass doors, they opened at his approach, and the guards nodded to him in quiet respect.

Inside, he made his way to a private room where his true self waited. In minutes, he had changed. The worn clothes were gone, replaced by a tailored suit that clung to his broad shoulders and lean frame like a second skin. His hair, damp from the rain, was brushed back, revealing the strong lines of his face.

Adam Moro. Billionaire. Enigma. The man no one truly knew.

Outside, the storm continued to rage. Adam stepped out, the key to his car in hand. With a press of his thumb, the sleek black machine purred to life, headlights cutting through the rain. The car rolled forward, obedient as a hound, stopping at his feet.

He slid inside, the door closing with a soft click.

For a moment, he sat there, hands on the wheel, eyes on the rain-slick streets.

And in the quiet, his mind replayed the scene. The woman with the gentle eyes. The woman who offered what little she had without hesitation.

Who is she?

He had all the power, all the wealth, yet in that moment he had felt poor beside her kindness.

As the car pulled away, slicing through the storm, Adam made a silent promise.

I will find her. I will know her name.

And Sera, back in her small apartment, stared out at the rain, heart heavy and full at once.

She couldn't explain the connection she'd felt. It made no sense. He was a beggar, she told herself. And she - she was barely holding herself together. What good could come of two broken souls finding each other?

But still, as sleep claimed her that night, she dreamed of gray eyes and soft rain.

And somewhere in the city, Adam dreamed of her.

The storm was only just beginning.