Fated to The Gorgeous

"That night... was it you?"

Eighteen-year-old Elena had imagined a thousand-no, ten thousand-ways to confess to the boy she liked. Yet she never imagined that when she finally gathered all her courage to stand before him, her first words would be, "That man from that night... was it you?"

Chasel leaned against the telephone pole with casual grace, his gaze downcast. When Elena's question reached him, he didn't even bother to lift his eyelids. Only the slightest furrow of his brow and a nearly imperceptible trembling of his eyelashes betrayed him, before his clean, striking features returned to their usual impassive calm.

Had Elena not been carefully studying every flicker across his face, she might have thought he hadn't heard her at all. She stared at him intently, waiting in silence for a moment. Seeing no sign of response, she pressed her lips together before speaking again-this time with certainty edging her question, "It was you that night, wasn't it?"

After Elena's second attempt, Chasel finally lifted his head. He lazily swept his gaze over her, his dark eyes void of any emotion or feeling. Then he straightened up and, without any acknowledgment, simply turned and walked away.

Elena watched his retreating figure, unconsciously clenching her fists.

It had to be him that night. It couldn't be anyone else...

The way he had kissed her that night, so tenderly... she couldn't be mistaken...

Though she couldn't understand why his attitude tonight differed so drastically from that night, she had finally summoned the courage to approach him. She couldn't give up halfway-she feared she might never find this kind of courage and confidence again.

With this thought, Elena darted after Chasel, taking two quick steps in his direction. "I know it was you that night, I-"

Before Elena could finish, Chasel quickened his pace.

The distance between them grew wider.

Elena broke into a small run, closing the gap. "I-I noticed you long before... I-"

Chasel, now at the curb, raised his hand to hail a taxi.

Before he could open the car door, Elena's quick reflexes allowed her to reach out and grab his sleeve.

Chasel towered over Elena by quite a margin. When he turned to look at her, there was something condescending in his gaze.

Elena's words caught in her throat as she met his eyes. Nervously swallowing, she finally spoke with the resignation of someone facing certain doom, "I've always liked you, liked you for a long time. Do you..."

Chasel abruptly raised his hand, forcefully trying to pry Elena's small fingers from his shirt.

Elena increased the pressure of her fingertips to resist him while continuing, "...like me?"

Chasel's fingers, in the middle of prying hers loose, trembled slightly, his force suddenly halting.

His subtle moment of weakness made Elena feel as though she could hear flowers blooming in her heart.

He must have feelings for her-why else would he have touched her that night? Why else would he freeze when she confessed her feelings?

Elena tilted her head up, looking into Chasel's eyes with bright, hopeful anticipation. Holding her breath, with solemn determination, she spoke each word deliberately, "Will you be my boyfriend..."

It was impossible to know which word triggered Chasel, but before Elena could finish her sentence, his eyes suddenly darkened, something dangerous flickering in their depths. Before she could continue, Chasel seized her wrist and dragged her into a nearby alley.

His strides were quick and purposeful. In moments, they reached the deserted depths of the alleyway. As Elena regained her senses, she instinctively began to speak. She had barely uttered the letter "C" when Chasel spun around, forcefully throwing her against the weathered blue-brick wall.

"Name your price," he demanded coldly.

Whether from the sharp pain blooming across her back where it had struck the wall, or from the bewildering words Chasel had just hurled at her, Elena stood frozen, her mind struggling to process what was happening.

"Give me a number," Chasel pressed again.

Still, silence was her only response.

Chasel's brow furrowed slightly. After waiting two more seconds and seeing no sign that Elena would speak, he seemed to lose patience. Without warning, he raised his hand and reached for the neckline of Elena's dress.

The early summer night carried a chill, and the sudden coolness against her chest made Elena shudder violently. Slowly, she rotated her dark pupils until they met Chasel's gaze.

The young man's expression remained cold and distant. Sensing her eyes on him, he lifted his eyelids and gave her a careless glance.

He stared at her blankly for a moment before speaking in an icy tone, "Do you see now? I can't muster even the slightest interest in you!"

As his cold yet beautiful voice cut through the air, shock crawled across Elena's eyes.

A gust of night wind swept by, and the chill against her chest finally jolted her back to reality. She quickly clutched at her torn clothing.

"If I hadn't been drinking that night, do you think anything would have happened?" Chasel continued mercilessly.

Elena's fingertips trembled violently as she instinctively gripped her clothes tighter, the veins on the back of her hand standing out from the pressure.

So that night she had thought was filled with passion and tenderness was merely his drunken mistake. Her fantasies were nothing but self-delusion.

So this was the cruel reality.

So the fall from heaven to hell could happen in just a single instant.

"Let me tell you the truth-that night, I had no idea who I was touching." In that moment, everything seemed to withdraw from Elena's world, leaving her utterly alone. Chasel's voice sounded distant, as if traveling from another dimension, carrying a sharp, wounding force, "So name your price. How much money will it take for us to be even, to pretend nothing ever happened?"

Elena held her breath until her lungs burned, standing frozen like a porcelain doll with hairline fractures threatening to shatter her composure.

In reality, only seconds passed-mere heartbeats in the endless rhythm of time-but to her, it felt like centuries of agony compressed into a single, devastating moment.

She fought against the violent trembling that threatened to overtake her body, refusing to let him witness her collapse. With painstaking deliberation, she loosened her grip on her torn clothing, each relaxed finger a small victory against the chaos spiraling inside her.

No tears fell. No accusations escaped her lips. Not a single syllable betrayed the hurricane ravaging her heart. It was as if Chasel had dissolved into nothingness, becoming a ghost she could walk through without acknowledgment. She turned, her movements mechanical, and began the endless journey toward the alley's mouth.

Each step was a battle against gravity, against the overwhelming urge to crumble to her knees. Her carefully measured pace betrayed her, quickening with each heartbeat as her body sought escape where her pride demanded dignity. She had barely covered any distance when his voice-that voice she once dreamed of hearing whisper her name in the dark-sliced through the night air, "And if possible, I hope you never appear in front of me again."

Elena's knees buckled, the world tilting dangerously beneath her feet. For one terrifying moment, she teetered on the edge of collapse. Then, with a surge of desperate energy, she launched herself forward, fleeing from the wreckage of her dreams.

She ran until her lungs screamed for mercy, until her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Standing hollow-eyed at the roadside, she existed in a void where pain and numbness collided. The curious glances of strangers finally penetrated her haze, reminding her of her disheveled state-physical evidence of her emotional demolition.

His words echoed in her mind, each syllable a dagger twisting deeper into her heart. The pain radiated outward from her chest, a toxic bloom spreading through her veins. With lowered eyes that concealed oceans of unshed tears, she rushed back to her dormitory, pursued by the ghosts of what could have been.

With lights-out approaching, her roommates had already settled in for the night. Their eager voices bombarded her the moment she appeared.

"Elena, did you confess to your crush? Did he say yes?"

"Elena, are you officially in love now? Congratulations..."

"Wait-Elena, what happened to your clothes?"

A burning ache clawed at the back of her throat. Without acknowledging their questions, she pushed past them and locked herself in the bathroom. She cranked the faucet to full blast, letting the rushing water drown out the sound of her world collapsing. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor, face buried against her knees as silent sobs wracked her body.

Her first love, her innocence-buried alive in the cold earth of rejection, with no funeral to mark their passing.

Her love story, stillborn before it had drawn its first breath, lay defeated on the battlefield of her heart.

---

Chasel had commanded her to vanish from his sight, and Elena obeyed with the absolute devotion of the heartbroken.

The moment her college entrance exams concluded, she fled the city that had witnessed her transformation from child to woman. Having lived with her grandmother since middle school, Elena booked a one-way ticket to New York City, where her parents had built a life without her.

Time ravaged her memories like a hungry beast, years dissolving like sugar in rain. Four years passed in New York City, each day another brick in the wall she built around her heart.

When they had inhabited the same streets, Elena and Chasel had existed in parallel universes. Now, with four years and thousands of miles between them, their lives were galaxies apart, no possibility of collision.

---

New York City in late September remained suffocatingly hot, the air thick with broken promises and forgotten dreams.

Elena had merely stepped downstairs to collect a package. Two minutes in the oppressive heat left her drenched, her skin glistening with unwanted vulnerability.

She despised feeling exposed, even to the elements. Back in her dormitory, she abandoned the package unopened, prioritizing the sanctuary of a hot shower to wash away the day's disappointments.

The dormitory stood empty, her roommates absent on adventures of their own. After her shower, Elena dried her hair with methodical precision, then climbed into bed to finish the movie she'd abandoned earlier. As the credits rolled, exhaustion claimed her. Noting the continued absence of her roommates, she surrendered to sleep's embrace, letting consciousness slip away like water through cupped hands.

Having forgotten to set an alarm, Elena drifted deeper than intended into oblivion. Only the persistent ringing of her phone-an unwelcome intruder in her dreamless sanctuary-finally dragged her back to reality.