She moved in rhythm with the wheels, staying low, clutching her heels in one hand like a fugitive in a ballgown. Her knees screamed, her lungs burned, and her dignity had died five minutes ago — but she kept going.
Almost there. Just a few more meters and I can disappear forever.
The waiter stopped near the center of the lounge, murmuring to another staff. Eva froze — still crouched behind the cart, heart hammering.
If she moved now, she'd be seen.
If she didn’t, she'd die of embarrassment right there on the marble floor.
Her gown’s hem caught under a wheel, refusing to let go. She tugged. Hard. The cart jerked — rattled.
Heads turned.
Eva’s eyes widened. No. No, no, no—
Before anyone could look down, she sprang to her feet, clutching her shoes, and darted toward the nearest hallway like her life depended on it.
Her bare feet slapped against the cool floor, the silk of her dress tangling around her knees. She didn’t look back — couldn’t. She could feel stares burning into her back, hear muffled laughter, but she kept running until the hall bent out of sight.
She collapsed against a wall, panting. The hallway was dim, lined with gold sconces and silence.
He didn’t see me. He didn’t see me. Please, universe, let him not have seen me.
After a long moment, she straightened, wiped at her face, and forced her breathing to slow. Her reflection in the glass door ahead made her wince — hair wild, mascara smudged, the skirt of her dress damp and wrinkled.
"Beautiful," she muttered. "A walking cautionary tale."
When she finally stepped outside, the night air hit her like a slap — cool, sharp, and smelling faintly of rain and asphalt.
The hotel’s front drive was mostly empty now, quiet except for the rhythmic hiss of sprinklers in the garden. No taxis. No buses. Not even a stray delivery van.
Just silence and humiliation.
She sighed, adjusted the strap of her dress, and started walking down the long, dimly lit street. Her heels dangled from her fingers, clicking softly as they swung. Her bare feet whispered against the pavement, each step a reminder of how absurd this was.
What now, Eva? Walk home? In a ruined dress, with no cash, and probably trending online by sunrise?
She groaned, covering her face with one hand. “I can’t do this. I can’t ever see him again.”
Just the thought of Alexander’s expression — that infuriating calm, those sharp eyes that missed nothing — made her stomach twist. He’d probably never forget last night. And neither would she.
Bits and flashes kept returning, fragments she wished she could delete: the shimmer of champagne, her laughter, the splash, the kiss—
“Oh God.” She stopped walking, pressing her palms to her cheeks. “Did I really…?”
The answer came in a quiet, horrified whisper: “Yes. You did.”
She groaned again, dragging a hand through her hair. “No, maybe I imagined it. Maybe I was… allergic. Yes — allergic to whatever rich-people drink I had. Probably mixed with gold dust and bad decisions.”
She gave a weak laugh, hugging her arms around herself as she walked faster. The road stretched ahead, a ribbon of silver under the streetlights.
Then, faintly, the sound of an engine behind her.
Her heart leapt to her throat. No. Please don’t let it be him.
The sleek black car slowed as it reached her, moving in time with her steps.
She turned her face slightly away, as if ignoring it might make it disappear.
The tinted window rolled down with a soft hum.
“Hey,” a voice called — smooth, friendly, almost amused.
She turned, cautious.
A man leaned toward the open window. His hair was a disheveled dark brown, his collar slightly undone, and the smirk on his lips suggested he hadn’t taken life seriously in years.
“You’ve been walking for a while,” he said, eyes glinting in the streetlight. “You okay?”
Eva hesitated. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” he asked, still smiling. “You look like you’re running away from a wedding.”
A reluctant laugh slipped out. “Something like that.”
He chuckled. “Thought so. Let me guess — the groom turned out to be a disaster?”
“Do I look like I’d agree to marry a disaster?”
He tilted his head, amused. “No. You look like you’d cause one.”
Eva blinked — then laughed despite herself. “Wow. Does that line usually work?”
“Only on women who walk barefoot through luxury districts at midnight,” he said.
She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “Funny.”
“Kristan,” he introduced himself easily, tapping the wheel with his thumb. “And you?”
“Not interested.”
“Not what I asked,” he said, grin widening. “But fine — mystery girl it is.”
She exhaled, half-annoyed, half-entertained. “Go home, Kristan.”
“Can’t,” he said cheerfully. “Just left a club. Too sober to sleep, too awake to care. Figured I’d offer a ride before the streetlights start feeling sorry for you.”
Eva gave a tired laugh. “Wow. Chivalry’s alive.”
“Barely,” he said with mock solemnity. “So, what’ll it be? You take the ride, or should I keep following you like a rom-com stalker until dawn?”
She stopped walking, turned toward him — drenched, exhausted, and visibly done with the night.
“Fine,” she muttered, pulling the door open. “But if you try anything—”
He raised both hands in mock surrender. “Cross my heart. You can tase me if I do.”
She slid into the seat, sighing as the door closed behind her. The warmth of the car wrapped around her instantly.
“You’re lucky I don’t have a taser,” she said, buckling her seatbelt.
Kristan grinned as the car rolled forward. “Then I guess it’s my lucky night.”
Eva looked out the window, the city lights blurring past. For the first time that evening, her pulse slowed.
She caught her reflection faintly in the glass — hair messy, eyes tired, mouth curved in something dangerously close to a smile.
And from the driver’s seat, Kristan glanced at her once — just once — before looking back at the road, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
“Long night?” he asked lightly.
“The longest.”
“Good,” he said. “Means it can only get better.”
She scoffed softly, crossing her arms. “You don’t know me.”
He smiled, eyes flicking briefly her way. “Not yet.”
The car purred down the empty road, two strangers riding side by side — one running from disaster, the other curious enough to chase it.