The elevator jerked without warning, a sharp movement that broke the fragile rhythm between them. The lights flickered once, then again, before settling into a dim, uneven glow. And then—nothing. No movement. No sound, except the faint hum fading into silence.

Glen instinctively straightened, her grip tightening around the champagne bottle. For a second, she didn’t say anything. She just stood there, listening, as if the elevator might suddenly come back to life if she stayed still enough.

“…Did it stop?” she asked quietly, though she already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, stepping forward toward the panel. “Looks like we’re stuck.”

His voice was steady, controlled. He pressed a few buttons, once, then again, more firmly this time. The elevator didn’t respond. The small screen above the panel stayed frozen.

He reached for the emergency button and pressed it. They both waited.

Nothing.

Peter tried again, holding it longer this time, his jaw tightening just slightly. Still no answer.

Glen shifted her weight, her плечі напружились despite her effort to stay calm. The space suddenly felt tighter, like the walls had moved closer without warning. “That’s… not a good sign,” she said under her breath.

Peter glanced at her, noticing the tension in her posture, the way her fingers curled a little tighter around the bottle. “Hey,” he said, softer now. “It’s okay. Someone will notice. These things get fixed pretty fast.”

She nodded, but her breath came out slower, less steady than before. The air felt warmer now. Thicker. The silence pressed in from all sides.

To distract herself, she looked down at the champagne bottle, tracing the edge of the label with her thumb. “Perfect timing,” she muttered. “First my day falls apart… now this.”

Peter leaned back lightly against the wall, his eyes resting on her with quiet attention. “That bad?”

Glen hesitated. Normally, she wouldn’t say anything. Not to a stranger. Not like this. But something about being stuck here, cut off from everything else, made the usual rules feel less important.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment, exhaling slowly. “My boyfriend left. A week ago.”

The words felt heavier out loud, like they carried more weight in the confined space.

Peter didn’t react immediately. No surprise. No awkward sympathy. Just a slight shift in his expression, something softer. “I guess the champagne isn’t for celebrating then.”

A faint, tired smile touched her lips. “Not exactly. More like… damage control.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, low and warm, the sound filling the small space in a way that felt unexpectedly comforting. “That makes more sense.”

The silence that followed wasn’t as sharp anymore. It softened, like something had shifted between them without either of them naming it.

Glen leaned back against the wall again, this time allowing herself to relax just a little. Her взгляд slipped back to him, more openly now. “What about you? You seemed in a hurry.”

Peter tilted his head slightly, considering the question. “Birthday. Friend’s place. I’m already late.”

She smirked faintly, the expression more natural this time. “Well, now you’ve got the perfect excuse.”

“Best one I’ve had in a while,” he replied.

Their eyes met again. This time, neither of them looked away too quickly.

The elevator remained still. Silent. Suspended between floors.

But now, the stillness felt different. Less like a problem. More like something… waiting.