Glen stepped into the elevator with a quiet exhale, pressing the button almost automatically, like she had done it a thousand times before. The day had drained her completely—not physically, but somewhere deeper, where thoughts linger too long and silence feels too loud. She leaned her shoulder against the cool metal wall and closed her eyes for a second, trying to pull herself together.

The bottle of champagne in her hand felt cold and steady, grounding her in the moment. It had been a last-minute decision to come over to her friend’s place without warning. She just didn’t want to be alone tonight. Not with everything still fresh, still aching. A week ago, things were different. Now everything felt strangely hollow, like something important had been quietly removed from her life.

The elevator doors were almost closed when a hand suddenly stopped them. They slid open again with a soft mechanical sound. A man stepped inside quickly, slightly out of breath, like he had rushed not to miss it.

“Thanks,” he said, straightening up, his voice calm but still carrying a hint of urgency.

Glen gave a small nod, her fingers tightening slightly around the neck of the bottle. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Not yet.

He pressed his floor and stepped back, standing close—but not too close. Still, in a space this small, every inch mattered. The elevator began to move, the low hum filling the silence between them.

Glen became suddenly aware of everything. The enclosed space. The quiet. The faint scent of his cologne, subtle but present. It wasn’t overwhelming—just enough to be noticed. Just enough to distract her.

She glanced at him, quick and almost accidental. Tall. Composed. There was something effortless about the way he stood, like he didn’t need to try to take up space—he just did.

And then she realized he was already looking at her.

Their eyes met, and this time it didn’t feel accidental. The moment stretched, just slightly, just enough to make it noticeable. There was no awkwardness in his expression. Just quiet attention.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice low, steady, easy.

Glen let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a faint, tired smile. “You could say that.”

His gaze dropped briefly to the bottle in her hand. “Celebration?”

She gave a small shrug, her fingers shifting slightly against the glass. “Something like that.”

The silence that followed felt different now. Not empty. Not uncomfortable. It carried something softer, something unspoken. The elevator continued its slow ascent, but inside, time seemed to stretch, to slow down.

Glen leaned back slightly, aware of how close he was, of the quiet presence beside her. For the first time that day, her thoughts weren’t racing. They softened, just a little.

And somewhere in that quiet space between floors, something shifted. Subtle. Barely there. But impossible to ignore.