Falling In Love With You

Chapter 5

Sera

My apartment always feels like a showroom after a long day—impeccable, expensive, and entirely devoid of life. I kicked off my heels the second the door clicked shut, the cold marble floor biting into the arches of my feet. It was a relief, but a lonely one.

I walked straight to the kitchen, the motion-sensor lights flickering on to reveal a kitchen that had seen more takeout boxes than home-cooked meals. I poured myself a glass of Cabernet, the dark liquid swirling against the crystal. I should have been tired. I should have been thinking about the presentation for the board tomorrow morning.

Instead, I was back on that street corner.

I leaned against the kitchen island, the taste of the wine dry on my tongue. Why was I so hung up on a stranger on a motorcycle? I’d seen thousands of people today, but that girl… she felt like a question I didn't know how to answer. It was the way she took up space. She didn't look like she was apologizing for existing. She didn't look like she was trying to be "enough" for anyone.

My phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a text from Joanna.

JOANNA: Dinner was a bust. Tell me you’re doing something more exciting than staring at your Egyptian cotton sheets.

I sighed, my thumbs hovering over the glass.

SERA: Just got home. Elias was being himself again. I think I’m just tired, Jo.

JOANNA: Ugh, the Creeper-in-Chief. You need a palate cleanser. I’m coming over Friday. We are going out. No suits allowed. I want to see the Sera that used to sneak out of boarding school.

I smiled faintly. That Sera felt like a ghost. She was buried under layers of expectations and the heavy weight of the McBurry name.

I wandered into my bedroom, dropping my blazer onto the chair. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, slowly unbuttoning my silk blouse. As the fabric fell away, I looked at my reflection. I saw the curves I spent so much time camouflaging in structured tailoring. I saw the softness of my waist and the slope of my shoulders.

I looked… fragile. Like something that would break if the world leaned too hard on me.

I thought about the girl on the bike again. Her arms had been solid, covered in ink, unshakeable. I wondered what it felt like to have your history written on your skin for everyone to see, rather than hidden behind a "classy" smile and a designer label.

I finished my wine in one long swallow, the heat of the alcohol settling in my chest. I needed to stop. This was just a classic case of "the grass is greener." I had the career, the apartment, the security. I shouldn't be envying someone who probably didn't know where their next rent check was coming from.

But as I climbed into my oversized bed, the silence of the penthouse felt heavier than usual. I closed my eyes and, for a split second, I could almost hear the echo of a roaring engine fading into the distance.