Adrian remained an enigma to me.

No surprise there. Despite being intimate strangers, we'd never truly known each other.


We'd never shared confidences or stood together as equals. For years, we weren't even friends.

He was just a regular customer, Selina's friend, that untouchable golden boy with the Midas touch. I knew my place—safely distant from his orbit.

Our closest moment came at an industry tasting. He mistook me for Selina, and when some colleagues started picking apart my opinions, he smoothly stepped in front of me, murmuring "I've got you" so only I could hear.


My heart still races remembering that moment.

He made me believe, just for a moment, that he might care.


After all, he always insisted to everyone that Selina was "just a friend."

Selina would perch at my counter, chin in hand: "What do you think of Adrian, Clara?"

I'd always say, "He's great. You two would make a perfect couple."

They were the golden couple—perfect pedigrees, model-worthy looks, complementary personalities. A match made in social media heaven.

"Really? You think we match?" Selina would tilt her head coyly. "Don't you think you and Adrian have more chemistry?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I'd always reply.

Because while I might have felt something for the stranger who once offered comfort, I never entertained fantasies about Adrian. We inhabited different universes. I was at peace with that reality.

You can appreciate someone from afar without needing more. Admiration doesn't demand resolution.

Adrian was my customer. Selina was my friend.

As long as those boundaries remained clear, our delicate ecosystem could survive.

Later, I realized how naive I'd been.

Who was I fooling? What made me think I belonged in their world?

At Calm Breeze's anniversary party, Selina handed me a vibrant cocktail, all smiles.

"To thank you for always being there for me," she insisted, raising her glass.

I accepted it and took a tiny sip, wincing at the bitter, burning taste.

Selina laughed, but before she could comment, someone pulled her away to mingle.

After she left, some sleazy guy started hitting on me. I felt strangely dizzy, and before I could tell him to get lost, Adrian appeared.

With just two cutting remarks, he sent the man scurrying away.

Noticing my drink, he raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you drink?"

I shook my head, smiling weakly. "I don't, usually."

"Let me take that, then."

I started to warn him I'd already sipped from it, but he'd already taken the glass and downed half in one go.

I swallowed my warning, watching him drink.

Instead of leaving, Adrian stayed to chat. I was confused by his sudden interest when he mentioned feeling unwell and needing to lie down upstairs.

My first thought was to find Selina.

"Don't bother her," Adrian said, loosening his collar to reveal a glimpse of collarbone. "I'm just lightheaded. Let her enjoy the party."

"Should I help you upstairs?" I offered, expecting a polite refusal.

Instead, he considered briefly before nodding. "That would be helpful. Thanks."

I helped him upstairs.

And then I couldn't leave.

The drink was drugged. My small sip made me dizzy; Adrian had consumed most of it.

One night of drugged passion. The next morning brought muscle aches in places I didn't know could hurt—and Selina's stinging slap, equal parts hatred and victory.