I see him.
He’s standing at the very edge of the pool, staring down at the water. His posture relaxed, but there’s something about the way he’s standing—so still, so lost in thought, that makes my chest tighten.
For some reason, I do not like it.
So I break the silence.
“Lucas.”
The reaction is instant.
He jumps, startled— too startled… His foot slips, and before I can even take a step forward, he falls straight into the pool.
FIFTEEN
LUCAS
I glance at my phone. It’s been about thirty minutes since I got here. The place is quiet, but not in a bad way. More… peaceful. The kind of calm that settles into you rather than suffocates you.
Happiness blooms in my chest as I remember that Alexander would be bringing sushi for dinner. fuck I can’t wait.
I place the book that I was checking out back in the stack and decide to take a look around, I haven’t had the chance to check out his place, but now I do.
The penthouse is bigger than I imagined. Vast. Expansive. The kind of place that makes you feel small just by walking through it. Upstairs alone holds a den, an office space, a second bar, an entire entertainment room with a home cinema, and even a pool table positioned beneath an overhead skylight, the felt shining emerald under the light.
There are three bedrooms on this floor—two guest rooms, one door I don’t touch.
Alex’s bedroom.
I don’t even reach for the handle. Something about it feels too private, too intimate, like stepping over a line I don’t deserve to cross. So I turn and make my way back downstairs, heart heavier than before.
The main level opens up into more space that I can barely take in. A wet and dry kitchen, sleek with black marble counters and matte steel, appliances that hum quietly like they belong to another world. A dining area long enough to seat twelve, though it feels untouched, almost like a showroom. Another den with a built-in bar lined with expensive bottles. Another home office, minimalistic, precise, as if even chaos isn’t allowed here.
There’s a gym, of course. I only glance at the racks of weights, the treadmill facing floor-to-ceiling windows. All of it spotless, maintained, like it’s been waiting for someone to live inside the perfection.
I drift to the balcony and push open the glass doors. The city spreads beneath me in a tapestry of light, glowing against the night sky. The air is cool, crisp, the kind of air you want to bottle and keep with you. I lean against the railing and let it wash over me.
To the side, there’s an outdoor dining area with a grilling island—polished counters gleaming under soft lights. I walk further and find lounge chairs arranged in pairs, scattered cushions that look more decorative than used.
A thought slips in before I can stop it.
What would it feel like… to belong in a life like this?
I round the corner—and freeze.
There’s a pool.
My jaw slackens. Two steps up, water glimmering like liquid glass, stretching the entire length of the balcony. A private pool in the sky.
I shouldn’t be surprised. This is Alexander, after all. Of course, he has something like this. But knowing and seeing are different things, and standing here in front of it feels unreal.
I climb the two shallow steps, slipping out of my shoes, toes brushing against the cool tile. I step closer until the reflection ofthe water shivers beneath me. It looks endless, too smooth, too deep.
I can’t stop staring.
Maybe it’s because I can’t swim. Maybe it’s because the water feels like something that would swallow me whole, quiet and merciless. Or perhaps it’s because, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m standing at the edge of something vast and terrifying. Something bigger than me.
The water reflects my face, but the image feels fragile, like it doesn’t belong here. Not in this world. Not next to Alexander.
