LOGIN~LUCAS~It feels like I'm staring at Marcella.My chest tightens in a way I don’t like, something sharp and unexpected cutting through my calm as I stare harder, trying to find something—anything—that proves me wrong.But there’s nothing.Nothing.Even the way she holds herself…that quiet dominance, that effortless control, that look in her eyes like the entire room exists beneath her…Marcella.“Lucas?”I blink.Charlotte’s voice snaps me out of it slightly, but not enough.Not nearly enough.Because she’s still there, and I’m still staring.I drag in a slow breath, forcing my body to move again, to walk forward like a normal person, even though nothing about this feels normal anymore.The room is loud—soft jazz humming in the background, glasses clinking, people laughing, but it all fades into a dull, distant noise in my ears.Because somehow, she’s the only thing my brain is registering.Like everything else has blurred out just to make her clearer.And I hat
~FIORELLA~“Oh my goodness! Isn't he so handsome??” Charlotte says.“Who, Charlotte??” I ask.“Over there,” she replies, and nudges me to look toward the direction that she's looking at.And I immediately regret looking, because I see Lucas walking into the dinner party.I quickly scoff and look away.Handsome my foot!“Why the reaction, Fiorella?” Charlotte asks, almost teasing. “Don't you think he's handsome?”“He's not handsome,” I reply bluntly.“Oh my! You must really be blind not to see how handsome he is,” she says freely. “Or is it just your dislike for your new partner that is making you not acknowledge his beauty?”I don't reply her, and I scoff again.But then, I decide to get a good look at him.I look at him…. really look at him.For the first time since I met Lucas, I'm really looking at him now and taking every details, both facially and bodily.At six foot five, he towers above most people. He has black wavy hair that straightens toward the nap
~FIORELLA~The first two days pass exactly the way I expected them to…..loud, overly cheerful, and unnecessarily dramatic.The moment that official announcement was made, the entire firm shifted into something I barely recognize. People suddenly have more energy than usual, conversations are louder, laughter comes easier, and every break turns into a discussion about outfits, drinks, music, and who’s bringing who.It’s exhausting.I sit at my desk on the second day, flipping through a file with precise, controlled movements when some conversations drift to my ears.“I heard they hired a live band this time.”“No way, really? That’s so extra.”“And the catering……oh my God, it’s from that five-star place! I can't really remember the name.”I roll my eyes without even looking up.Of course it is.Because nothing in this firm can ever be done halfway.Everything has to be exaggerated.Even a simple dinner turns into an event.My pen taps once against the paper bef
~FIORELLA~There are very few things in this world that genuinely unsettle me.Not challenge me, not irritate me, not provoke me.Only a few things unsettle me.I am not easily shaken. So the fact that I’m currently gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, the quiet hum of my engine filling the silence as streetlights blur past my windshield…is deeply unacceptable.Three weeks.Three weeks of travelling.Three weeks without my laptop.Three weeks with Lucas.The thought alone makes my jaw tighten.It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.This isn’t efficient. It isn’t necessary. It isn’t logical.It’s reckless.And I don’t do reckless.My fingers flex slightly against the wheel as I stop at a red light, the glow reflecting faintly against the dashboard while I replay the conversation in the director’s office for what feels like the hundredth time.Every word, every look, every shift in tone, especially his.Lucas.The way he stood t
~LUCAS~“I'm not joking, Fred. I'm really serious. The lady looks exactly like Marcella,” I say.I let out a slow breath. “Same face. Same features. Same… everything.”“You must have imagined the shock I felt when I saw her,” I tell him.“Lucas…”“But,” I cut in, my voice tightening slightly, “completely different personality.”“Define completely,” he probes.I scoff softly. “Cold. Arrogant. Rude. Boring. A control freak. The kind of person who walks into a room and somehow acts like she owns the air in it.”Albert bursts out laughing loud and unapologetic.“Bro,” he says between laughs, “This doesn't sound like Marcella at all.”“Yeah yeah.”“I wonder how you must have felt when you confirmed she isn't Marcella,” he says.“I felt really sad.”“And now you're about to go on a three weeks trip with her lookalike with a very interesting personality,” he laughs mockingly. “You're doomed, bro.”“Shut up,” I tell him.“No, seriously,” he continues, still laughing. “
~LUCAS~There are bad ideas.And then there are catastrophically stupid ideas disguised as “professional development.”This?This is the second one.I don’t say anything for a moment after we’re dismissed. I just sit there, staring at absolutely nothing while Linda’s cheerful voice fades into the background and the director moves on like he hasn’t just detonated a bomb in both our lives.Three weeks of no laptops and traveling with Fiorella.I let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down my face.This is insane.I finally stand, pushing my chair back with a quiet scrape against the floor, and for a second, I consider walking out without saying a word.But then I glance at her.Big mistake.Fiorella is still seated, but she looks… different.Composed, yes.Perfect posture, yes.But I can see it…..the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers are curled just a little too tightly against her arm, like she’s holding herself together by force.She looks like she’s about
~LUCAS~I shouldn't let Marcella distract me, I tell myself.So I sit up straight, clear my throat and take a deep breath.I start listening to Dr. Raymond again, not until her foot nudges mine under the desk again.I stiffen.She leans closer, her voice barely a breath.“Y
~LUCAS~I never expected to see her here. She's the last person I expected to see.The bell above the cafe door chimes, soft and familiar.I don’t look up immediately.The morning rush is easing, but my hands are still moving on autopilot—wipe the counter, adjust the cup
~MARCELLA~I don’t go to school the next day.I wake up to sunlight spilling through my curtains, my phone buzzing with notifications I don’t bother checking, and a strange hollowness sitting right in the center of my chest.For the first time in a long time, it isn’t money,
~LUCAS~I shouldn’t be here at the club. But heartbreak made me come here.The incidents that happened earlier replays in my head.I had just finished my shift at the coffee shop, my work apron folded under my arm, the smell of coffee still clinging to my clothes.I was tired,







