Chapter 3: Whispers on the Terrace
980 Words
The city felt far away from up here. The terrace was quiet—too quiet for a place surrounded by noise and ambition. A few benches stood near the railing, plants swaying gently with the wind, and sunlight dripping like honey over the walls.
Elara hesitated as she stepped onto the terrace, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She didn’t know what she was doing here. One message from the company’s secretary and her curiosity had dragged her all the way to this place.
She was about to turn back when a low voice came from behind.
“Leaving already?”
She spun around. A man stood there—tall, lean, the kind of presence that filled the space without even trying. His black shirt clung lightly to his frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing veins along his forearms. His expression was calm, unreadable, but his eyes... those deep, steady eyes, were sharper than words.
“You’re late,” she said, masking her nerves behind a calm voice.
“You weren’t supposed to be early,” he replied with a faint, teasing smirk.
Elara frowned. “You’re... Kieran?”
“That’s what I’ve been told,” he said, his tone lazy, almost amused.
She crossed her arms. “And what exactly is this about?”
He shrugged. “Let’s just say I wanted to meet the woman brave enough to throw shade at a company online.”
Her cheeks warmed. “So you called me here to scold me?”
He stepped closer, stopping just a breath away. “If I wanted to scold you, Miss Elara, I’d have done it already.”
Something in the way he said her name made her pulse stutter. She looked away quickly, focusing on the city skyline instead. “You could’ve just texted.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked softly.
There was silence again—thick and electric. The kind that made the air feel alive.
Elara cleared her throat. “You work here?”
“I do.”
“What exactly do you do?”
He hesitated for the smallest second, then said, “A little bit of everything.”
“So… vague,” she muttered. “Sounds like someone hiding something.”
“Maybe I am.” His lips curved into a quiet smile.
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not very transparent.”
“Transparency is overrated,” he said simply.
Elara didn’t know if she was annoyed or intrigued. There was something about him—something both calm and dangerous, like the stillness before a storm.
“So, Miss Physiotherapist,” he said suddenly. “Tell me about your peaceful little world.”
Her head snapped toward him. “How do you—”
He interrupted with a small grin. “I asked around. The internet’s not the only place with answers.”
She sighed, giving up. “Fine. I work as a physiotherapist. Mostly older patients, sometimes post-surgery. It’s not exciting, but it’s meaningful.”
“Helping people heal,” he murmured. “That’s noble.”
She shrugged. “It’s not about being noble. It’s about doing something real. I don’t like pretending.”
“Pretending,” he echoed, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes. “That’s interesting.”
“You sound like you’ve done it before,” she said softly.
“Maybe I still am.”
He turned to lean against the railing, his eyes tracing the horizon. “I live with my aunt. Her place is far from here—a quiet village, surrounded by green hills and old stone houses. She says every wall in her house has a secret.”
Elara smiled faintly. “That sounds beautiful.”
“It is,” he said, his tone quieter now. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left.”
“Why did you?”
He looked at her then, really looked, and for a moment she thought he might tell her. But instead, he smiled. “Some secrets are better kept.”
She held his gaze. “You have a lot of those, don’t you?”
“Too many,” he admitted. “And you?”
“I’m not interesting enough to have secrets,” she said.
“I don’t believe that.”
His words hung between them, heavy and curious.
For a moment, the world felt slower—the air thicker, her heartbeat louder. The way he looked at her made her feel… seen. Not in the shallow way people sometimes stared, but deeply, as if he was trying to understand the parts of her she didn’t even show.
A soft wind brushed past, carrying her hair across her face. Without thinking, he reached out and tucked a strand behind her ear. The touch was brief, almost accidental, but it made something inside her tighten.
She stepped back quickly, pretending to fix her bag. “I should go.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course.”
“Thank you,” she said, though she wasn’t sure for what.
He smiled faintly. “For what, exactly?”
“For… not what I expected,” she said honestly.
He chuckled under his breath. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She walked toward the stairs, but halfway down, she turned around. “You never told me your full name.”
He met her eyes and said, “Maybe next time.”
When she disappeared, Kieran stayed where he was. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the city lights blinked to life like a thousand little secrets.
He exhaled slowly.
He didn’t know why this woman got under his skin so easily—or why her words felt like a mirror he didn’t want to look into.
But one thing he did know—Elara wasn’t going to be just another stranger behind a screen anymore.
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- Writer
