Chapter VI
694 Words
The lobby door slid shut behind him, muffling the soft hum of the city outside.The warmth of the building should have felt comforting after the long flight, but all he could think about was the fading red glow of Daisy’s taillights disappearing down the road.
He hadn’t expected her to drive him home. Honestly, he hadn’t expected her to do anything except politely excuse herself the moment they got off the plane. She didn’t seem like someone who liked sticking close to strangers—especially not strangers who happened to know her real name.
Yet there she was, frowning at the broken-down car and telling him, almost reluctantly, “Fine. I’ll drive you.”
He still didn’t know what surprised him more: her offering, or how quickly he said yes.
The elevator arrived with a low chime. He stepped inside and pressed his floor, leaning back against the wall. In the mirror’s reflection, he saw someone who looked drained but wired—like his body was exhausted, but his thoughts refused to slow down.
Daisy’s face kept replaying in his head. The way she glanced at him in the car, cautious but not cold. The way her eyes lingered on his officetel building—curious, confused, maybe questioning. He understood that reaction. Most people did a double take.
Actors were supposed to live big. Live flashy. Live loud.
Edward lived… here.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “She probably thinks I’m broke,” he muttered, half amused, half embarrassed.
Well, maybe she wasn’t wrong. His paycheck wasn’t terrible, but after agency cuts, loan payments, and supporting his family, there wasn’t much left to indulge himself. Luxurious apartments were for top actors, the ones whose faces were plastered on billboards. Not for someone like him, floating between recognition and anonymity.
Still, Daisy hadn’t looked judgmental. Just thoughtful. And something about her expression made him want to explain himself—which was surprising. He didn’t owe anyone explanations about his life.
The elevator dinged again. He stepped out onto his floor and walked down the hallway, stopping in front of his door. He slid the keycard in but paused before pushing it open.
The silence inside felt too heavy. Too empty.
Instead of entering, he backed away and leaned against the railing overlooking the city. Lights flickered like tiny stars scattered across the streets, cars crawling like glowing insects far below.
He breathed in the faint metallic scent of the night.
“Daisy,” he murmured to himself.
Her name felt strangely natural on his tongue. Maybe because she didn’t treat him like an actor. She didn’t ask for photos, didn’t gush about his roles, didn’t even mention the industry except in passing. She looked at him, but not through him—something he wasn’t used to.
And when she drove him, she didn’t fill the silence with small talk. She let it breathe. Let him breathe.
He liked that too much.
He wondered what kind of life she had, parking her car at the airport for a month. Most people would call a taxi or book a pickup. Did she travel often? Work abroad? Or was she, like him, someone who preferred privacy over convenience?
His phone vibrated in his pocket. A message from his manager popped up:
“Is he home? Tell Daisy thank you for me. I owe her a coffee.”
He typed back: She just left. She was tired too. He hesitated, then deleted the second sentence. It felt too personal, too revealing of how closely he’d watched her.
He pocketed the phone again.
Exhaling slowly, he stared at the glowing city. He didn’t know why this one meeting—no, several accidental meetings—felt different. Why it lingered even after the doors had shut between them.
Maybe because she didn’t belong in his world, yet somehow kept crossing into it.
Maybe because she wasn’t impressed by him, which oddly made him want to impress her.
Maybe because he felt strangely comfortable around her—the kind of comfort that didn’t come often.
Or maybe it was simpler than that.
Maybe he just wanted to see her again.
- Writer
