Adrian’s POV
821 Words
Chapter 4
Adrian didn’t leave right away.
He stood on Lina’s sidewalk for a full minute after her door closed, listening to the sound of rain dripping off the gutters. The city was too quiet. His driver had texted three times. His assistant had texted six.
He ignored them.
Because if he left, this night would become a story he told later. _Met a girl at a gala. Gave her my jacket. Walked her home._
And he didn’t want it to be a story. Not yet.
So he stood there. Stupid.
Upstairs, the light in her window turned on. Then off.
She was okay.
He finally turned and started walking.
---
The car was waiting two blocks away. Black. Tinted.
“Where to, sir?”
“Home.”
Home was a penthouse he barely used. Floor to ceiling windows. No photos. No clutter. Just city and glass and the sound of his own breathing.
He should’ve been thinking about the board emails. About his brother. About the fact that he’d skipped out on a $2.3 million donation photo op.
Instead he was thinking about emerald fabric.
About rain in her hair.
About the way she’d looked up at a sky with no stars and called it hope.
_Proof that fate exists._
Pathetic.
He poured whiskey he didn’t drink and stood at the window. 2:14am.
His phone buzzed. Richard.
*You made the news. Again. Board is furious. Call me.*
Adrian didn’t.
He thought about Lina’s speech instead. How her voice had cracked and she didn’t hide it. How two hundred rich people had gone quiet because she said _my sister_ instead of _our mission statement_.
He hadn’t heard someone talk like that in years.
---
Morning came gray and slow.
He told himself he wasn’t going to go.
He told himself it was unprofessional.
He told himself he had meetings.
At 8:30 he was outside her building anyway, with two coffees and a dry cleaner’s bag.
The doorman looked at him like he was insane. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here for Lina Reyes.”
“Does she know you’re coming?”
“No.”
The doorman stared. Adrian stared back.
Finally: “Third floor. Blue door.”
Lina answered in sweats and a messy bun, eyes puffy. She looked wrecked. And beautiful.
She opened the door, saw him, and froze.
“What are you doing here?”
“Returning your jacket,” he said, holding up the dry cleaner’s bag. “And bringing coffee. Because you looked like you needed both.”
She stared at him. Then at the coffee. Then back at him.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I know.”
A long pause. Down the hall, someone’s dog barked.
Lina stepped aside. “You better come in before my neighbors start a group chat about me.”
Her apartment was small. Books everywhere. A framed photo on the wall — two women, laughing, with fairy lights behind them. Elena.
Adrian set the coffee on the counter. Handed her the jacket, now clean and folded.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For last night. And for this.”
“You gave a hell of a speech.”
“My board hated it.”
“Good.”
That made her laugh. Tired, but real.
She took the coffee. “You’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“A guy in a suit who donates money and leaves.”
Adrian leaned against her kitchen counter. “I do that too. Just… not yesterday.”
Lina sipped her coffee. Watched him over the rim.
“Why did you come today?”
He could’ve lied. Could’ve said he was in the neighborhood. Could’ve said it was about the jacket.
He didn’t.
“Because I haven’t stopped thinking about the roof,” he said. “And about you looking for stars in the wrong place.”
Lina’s breath caught.
Outside, the sun finally broke through the clouds.
She set her coffee down.
“Adrian—”
His phone buzzed. Then hers. Then both of them again.
The world, calling them back.
Lina picked hers up. Her face fell.
“It’s the board. Emergency meeting. 10am.”
Adrian checked his. Richard. 5 missed calls.
Neither of them moved.
Finally, Lina sighed. “I have to go.”
“Yeah.”
She walked him to the door. Paused with her hand on the knob.
“Thank you for the coffee,” she said.
“Thank you for letting me bring it.”
She smiled. Small.
“Adrian?”
“Yeah?”
“If the universe is leaving breadcrumbs… I think I just found one.”
She closed the door.
Adrian stood in the hallway for a second, then walked away.
But this time, he wasn’t thinking about board meetings.
He was thinking about blue doors. And coffee. And the way she’d said his name.
- Writer
