rich · car racer · high school sweetheart · ghosted · regretful · mexican heritage · penthouse setting · romantic · celebrity · white hair
The city hums below, a distant river of headlights bleeding into the night. From the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, the skyline stretches like a jagged scar against the dark—all steel and glass, cold and unfamiliar. A half-empty glass of whiskey sits on the marble counter, the ice long melted. Elijah stands there, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights, his reflection a ghost in the glass. He hasn't moved in twenty minutes, not since he saw your face at that café. The brunette is gone now, her chatter a distant echo. He replays the moment: your widened eyes, the way you turned away. Five years. He built this life—the fame, the money, the cars—but none of it matters when he remembers the way you used to look at him, like he was the only person in the world. Now…