Chapter 2 Shadows between strangers

By the time the whiskey had settled into her veins, the noise of the bar had faded into a distant hum. It was like she and Adrain were in a bubble, floating just outside the world. No names beyond the first. No shared pasts. Just the sharp, clean simplicity of pain and distraction.

Raina talked more than she thought she would. She told him about her job in PR-how she specialized in crisis management for high-profile clients, how she'd worked her way up in a cutthroat firm in Chicago without family connections. She didn't mention Marcus by name. Didn't need to. The betrayal still lived in her voice.

Adrian listened without interrupting. He didn't offer advice or apologies. Just quiet nods and the occasional question that cut too cleanly for comfort.

"You always put yourself last?" he asked, after her third glass, when she admitted she hadn't taken a vacation in four years.

She gave a bitter smile. "Doesn't everyone chasing success?"

He looked at her then-really looked-and she felt stripped bare. Not in the way Marcus used to look at her like an accessory, a prize. But like Adrian saw through the shell, the cracks beneath the polish.

"Maybe," he said. "But not everyone forgets why they started."

His words lodged somewhere beneath her ribs.

The rain had started by the time they left the bar, a soft drizzle that turned the pavement slick and shimmering. She hesitated outside, turning toward the curb, prepared to call a ride. But when Adrain held out his hand, palm open, no pressure in his expression, just quiet patience-she made a decision.

She didn't want to go home. Not yet.

---

At Adrain's Loft

The elevator in his building groaned as it lifted them skyward. The space was sparse, masculine, all dark wood and steel-functional, not flashy. There were no framed photos. No clutter. It looked like a place someone lived in but didn't belong to.

He offered her tea. She shook her head. Her hands were still shaking. Whether from anger, grief, or adrenaline, she didn't know.

"I'm not here for small talk," she said finally.

He paused, the tension thickening between them.

"Then what are you here for?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she stepped forward, closed the space between them, and kissed him.

It wasn't tender. It wasn't sweet. It was desperate, all heat and ache, the kiss of someone trying to forget.

He kissed her back.

Clothes were lost between rooms. The couch was forgotten. The bedroom was dark and unfamiliar, but it didn't matter. Her world had already broken-this was just falling into the pieces.

When it was over, they lay in silence, the air warm with shared breath. Raina stared at the ceiling, pulse still skimming just beneath the surface of her skin. For the first time that night, she felt still.

She turned toward him, half expecting a smirk or a smug comment.

But Adrian was already watching her. Not possessive. Not regretful. Just present.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded once. "You don't owe me anything."

She fell asleep with her back to him, but his warmth stayed close, like a promise neither of them dared speak aloud.

---

The Next Morning

The bed was cold when she woke. Adrian was gone.

There was no note. No phone number. No name beyond "Aiden."

His absence wasn't abrupt-it was surgical. Like he'd carefully extracted himself from her world, leaving no trace.

She sat there for a long time, wrapped in a blanket she didn't recognize, heart hollow but strangely calm.

There was no panic. No desperation to chase him down.

Just the echo of a moment that had given her the only thing she hadn't felt in months: seen.

And then she gathered her clothes, left the apartment, and stepped back into a world that didn't know anything had changed.

But it had.

Inside her, something had already begun to spark to life-something she wouldn't realize until three weeks later.

---

Raina walked the city streets with no real direction, her coat barely warding off the morning chill. Traffic buzzed. Horns blared. Somewhere a bike chain clicked and whirred past her. The world was moving on, indifferent to her collapse.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected-maybe a scribbled phone number, a vague promise, some awkward goodbye that would at least validate what had happened. But there'd been nothing.

Just the echo of An's voice in her memory, low and calm. And the warmth of his hands, already fading from her skin.

She stopped by a café she used to love-one she and Glory used to visit before their lives diverged into competing calendars and masked resentments. The barista recognized her but didn't comment on her puffy eyes or yesterday's makeup. A small kindness she didn't deserve but clung to anyway.

She ordered black coffee, no sugar.

She didn't want sweet.

---

Later That Day – Apartment

The condo felt alien now. Clean, cold, and echoing with memories. She walked past the framed photos of her and Marcus-smiling at galas, on beaches, in curated moments of a life that had been unraveling behind the scenes.

With a heavy breath, Raina moved through each room like a surgeon preparing for triage. She packed a small suitcase. Clothes. Her laptop. A few framed photos of her parents, long passed. She left the engagement ring on the nightstand with a handwritten note for the cleaning service to forward her mail.

She texted Linda:

"I need a place to crash. Just for a bit. Please don't ask questions yet."

Linda replied almost instantly:

"Of course. I've got wine and chocolate. Door's open."

Raina felt her throat tighten.

She left the key on the kitchen counter.

And with it, left behind a life she no longer recognized as hers.

---

Three Weeks Later – Linda's Apartment

Time passed in fragments-silent meals, half-slept nights, days packed with freelance work Raina did from the couch. Linda didn't push. She hovered with quiet concern, offering stability without suffocating.

Raina stared at her laptop as her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to focus on a proposal she'd promised a week ago. Her stomach lurched again. Not nerves-something deeper. Sharper. She blinked, pressing her fingers to her temple.

"Still nauseous?" Linda asked, entering with two mugs of tea.

"Yeah," Raina murmured. "Probably stress. Or maybe your cooking."

Linda smirked. "Hey, my cooking is-okay, that's fair. But stress doesn't usually come with cravings and fatigue."

Raina looked up.

And froze.

Linda's smirk faded. "Wait. You don't think-?"

"No," Raina said quickly. Then, slower, "I mean... maybe? No. We used protection. It was one night. It wasn't-"

Her voice faltered. The truth hovered between them.

"You should take a test," Linda said gently.

---

One Hour Later – Bathroom

The box said "Results in two minutes," but it felt like two lifetimes.

Raina sat on the closed toilet lid, hands clenched so tightly they trembled. Her chest ached with the weight of what this could mean.

The timer buzzed.

She forced herself to look.

Two lines.

Positive.

Her world tilted.

She didn't cry. Not yet. She didn't scream or panic.

She just... sat.

As if stillness would stop the truth from becoming real.

A baby.

His baby.

Adrian-if that was even his real name. No last name. No number. No way to contact him. He had vanished like smoke from a match, and now she was left with the flame still burning.

---