The sunrise hit the living room like a spotlight.
Christian stirred on the couch—blanket tangled around him, the city's glow filtering through sheer curtains. He rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly.
This wasn't the penthouse.
This was Ana's domain.
🏠 First Impressions
He noticed the little things right away:
• A stack of vintage design magazines on the coffee table, dog-eared and well-loved.
• A half-finished sketch pinned to the bulletin board—floral patterns and bold strokes.
• A mismatched mug beside his elbow, the one he drank from last night.
He breathed it in: the faint scent of jasmine candles, the soft hum of a laptop left open on a side table, the way the couch sagged slightly where she always sat.
This was her life—unpolished, raw, honest.
☕ Morning Encounter
He found her in the kitchen, back to him, blending a smoothie.
She didn't turn around at first.
"Good morning," he said quietly.
She froze for a beat, then placed two glasses on the counter. One for him, one for her.
"Here," she said, handing him the pale green drink. "Kale, banana, and a dash of hope."
He took a sip, surprised by how good it tasted.
"You're really living in chaos, aren't you?" he teased gently.
Ana smiled without looking at him. "This is my chaos. And I love it."
🌿 Seeing Her World
He walked slowly around the apartment, touching a colorful throw pillow, examining books on her shelf—poetry, travel, tattered novels she'd read a dozen times.
He paused at the bulletin board with her sketches.
"Did you draw these?" he asked, pointing to the floral design.
She joined him, brushing a stray hair back. "Yeah. I've been working on a line of prints for a boutique in Brooklyn."
He studied the lines, the curves, the life in each stroke. "They're beautiful."
She looked up, surprised by his sincerity. "Thank you."
🔑 A New Key
They returned to the living room where the torn contract and the penthouse key still lay on the coffee table.
Christian picked up the key and held it thoughtfully.
"This key…" he began.
Ana sat beside him. "Is yours now."
He nodded, then hesitated. "Can I have mine back?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Your key?"
He smiled softly. "To the penthouse."
Ana laughed. "That place is a mausoleum. I'll give it back—when you promise to still show up here."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key—sleek, corporate, impersonal. "It's yours too, if you ever want to visit."
They sat in silence, keys in hand—one to her world, one to his—both bridges and choices.
For the first time, Christian Blake felt at home somewhere other than his own empire.
And Ana Rae realized she wasn't alone in her chaos anymore.
To be continued…