WE MET IN AN ELEVATOR DURING A BLACKOUT. THE LIGHTS CAME ON TOO SOON.

The power died just as the elevator doors closed, plunging us into darkness so complete I could taste it—metallic and thick, like licking a battery.

"Perfect," muttered a voice to my left. Masculine. Annoyed. Slightly breathless.

I clutched my purse like a lifeline. "At least we're not claustrophobic."

A pause. Then, quietly: "Speak for yourself."

That's when the emergency lights flickered on, revealing:

My reflection in the polished brass—wild-haired, wide-eyed

A fire extinguisher I'd never noticed before

Him

Tall. Dark suit. A jawline that could cut glass and eyes that said I haven't slept since 2017. His tie was loosened just enough to suggest he'd come from either a funeral or a very bad date.

We stared at each other for exactly three heartbeats before the lights died again.

"Still there?" I asked.

"Unfortunately." His voice was closer now. "You smell like..." A beat. "Vanilla. And panic."

"It's my shampoo. And my personality."

He laughed—a rough, surprised sound. The elevator lurched, sending me stumbling forward. His hands caught my hips in the dark.

Then the power returned with brutal clarity, exposing:

My hands fisted in his shirt

His lips inches from mine

The WEDDING BAND on his left hand

We sprang apart like guilty teenagers.

The doors opened on floor seventeen. He straightened his tie. I adjusted my bra strap like it had personally offended me.

"Take care," he said, stepping into the light.

I should've let him go.

Instead, I blurted: "Was it a funeral or a bad date?"

He turned, one eyebrow arched. "Both. My divorce finalized this morning."

The doors started closing between us.

I stuck out my foot.

Comment Bait:

"Should she have stopped the elevator? (Team Yes or Team No?)"

Want a Part 2 where they meet again? Let me know! ⚡