Juliette could feel the night pressing softly against the glass walls of the hall as the afterglow of the event slowly faded. The air smelled of perfume, fabric, sweat, and exhaustion an intoxicating mix of a night that had meant everything to her.
The crowd had thinned out. Those who remained were staff, volunteers, models half-dressed and half-tired, makeup artists wiping lipstick off laughing mouths. It was the familiar tired chaos that comes after something beautiful ends.
Juliette was helping fold gowns when she heard a voice behind her smooth, confident, too composed for this late hour.
"You heading home alone?"
She turned. Adrian Hale stood there, jacket over his arm, bow tie loosened. He looked like someone born to walk through important rooms, but still warm enough to speak gently to her.
She blinked. "Yes… I am. I'll be fine."
He studied her for a second, the way men who are used to reading rooms quickly do.
"Let me drop you off then," he said simply. It wasn't flirt or ego just courtesy.
Juliette shook her head immediately, smiling softly.
"No, really… it's fine. I know you're busy. You probably have somewhere to be."
His lips curved. "I always have somewhere to be. But I'm offering."
She laughed under her breath, small and tired.
"You've been kind enough already, Mr. Hale. Thank you."
Adrian clasped his hands behind him, a gesture of surrender.
"Alright. I'll respect that."
But then:
"At least give me your number."
Her breath hitched.
Not romantically she could see that. But he meant it… sincerely. Like a doorway to a life she never thought people from Cassian's world would open to someone like her.
"We could grab coffee sometime. You've got a good eye, Juliette. I don't say that easily."
She swallowed and nodded. She read her number out. He saved it. No games. No pressure.
Just… respect.
"Goodnight, Juliette."
"Goodnight, Adrian."
And he walked away.
And then without warning, without sound
her eyes collided with Cassian's across the hall.
He was standing near the exit, half shadow, half raw fury wearing a calm man's face.
He had seen the exchange.
Every second of it.
He didn't speak.
He didn't walk closer.
He didn't even pretend not to care.
He just… watched her, like her existence was a question he no longer knew how to answer.
Juliette looked away first.
That hurt him more than anything she had done tonight.
A moment later, Cassian turned and walked out sharp, cold, silent like something inside him had snapped under the weight of everything he couldn't say.
He simply disappeared into the night.
A cold ache spread through her chest.
But she forced herself to keep folding fabric.
She wouldn't go after him.
Not anymore.
Not tonight.
⸻
The event wound down slowly, beautifully, with all the quiet chaos that comes after glamour.
Soft laughter echoed between the racks.
A makeup artist hugged a model who was wiping mascara tears from exhaustion.
Someone plugged out the overhead lights, one by one, until the hall dimmed into a warm, sleepy glow.
Ms. Lydia wrapped Juliette into a long, grateful hug.
"My girl… you worked like ten people tonight."
Juliette pressed her face against the older woman's shoulder, feeling warmth for the first time today.
Zina appeared beside her next, kneeling down to help her out of her heels.
"Please, abeg, no faint tomorrow," she teased.
Juliette laughed weakly.
"I'll try."
She changed behind the curtains into the softest version of herself:
a worn black T-shirt, jeans that hugged her tired legs, and simple flat sandals.
Her hair was pushed back with a scarf.
Her makeup was smudged but somehow still beautiful.
A different kind of beauty.
Soft. Quiet. Real.
She packed her dress carefully into her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped outside into the night.
And immediately
the loneliness hit.
Cold breeze brushed her skin.
The city lights flickered gently, distant and metallic.
Cars passed in lazy intervals.
Vendors were packing up their things.
She hugged her bag to her chest.
The glitter of the event vanished from her body like it had never happened.
Reality settled on her shoulders.
No car.
No ride.
No husband waiting.
Just her.
Just Juliette.
She crossed to the roadside and waited for the next public bus.
A tired taxi finally slowed for her.
She climbed in quietly, her head leaning against the cool window as the car pulled away from the bright district.
She was exhausted.
Her eyes fluttered.
The hum of the engine lulled her.
Her mind drifted.
Home.
She just needed to get home.
The road grew emptier.
Darker.
The driver hummed to an old radio song.
Streetlights flickered like dying sparks.
Juliette's eyelids grew heavier.
Her breath evened.
Until
BOOM headlights flashed far too fast.
Her eyes snapped open.
A truck was swerving wildly across the lane.
"Jesus!" the driver shouted.
SCREEEEEEECH.
The taxi jerked violently.
Juliette's body slammed sideways her fingers digging into the seat, heart leaping into her throat.
Horns screamed from somewhere.
Tires burned against asphalt.
Glass trembled.
Voices shouted from outside.
The truck cut across their lane.
The driver swerved.
The world tilted
Juliette's head hit the window hard.
She gasped.
A sharp ringing filled her ears.
The car spun.
Metal twisted.
Something shattered.
She tasted blood.
Her breath shattered into pieces.
The night exploded.
The last thing she felt was her forehead growing warm and wet blood trickling slow and sticky.
The last thing she heard was a voice
far away, distorted, terrified
someone shouting, running, calling her name
And then everything went black.
Completely.
Absolutely.
Terrifyingly.
Dark.