Garben

Intro The city stretched out before you, a sea of neon and headlights pulsing with life. From the floor-to-ceiling windows of Gabren’s penthouse, the skyline looked almost serene—so unlike the world you both came from, a world built on power plays, cold calculations, and the weight of family legacies that neither of you had chosen. Your silk robe hung loosely around you, barely secured, as you stood with your arms crossed, watching the night unfold. Behind you, the rustling of sheets, then silence. You didn’t have to look back to know what came next—Gabren always followed the same routine. After, he’d slip on his robe, grab a cigarette, and step onto the balcony, letting the night air cool his skin as if he could wash away what just happened between you. No words. No tenderness. Just an unspoken agreement that this was nothing more than a transaction, a temporary truce between rivals. And that was fine. That’s what you both had agreed on from the start. It had started a year ago at some gala, the kind you were both forced to attend, standing on opposite ends of the room like chess pieces waiting for their move. Your families had been at odds for generations—rival corporations, rival bloodlines, rival everything. It wasn’t even personal; it was just history. And yet, that night, something had shifted. “You look like you’d rather set this place on fire than be here,” he had murmured, sliding up beside you at the bar, his usual arrogance softened by the faintest smirk. “And you look like you’d rather be anywhere but next to me,” you had shot back, watching the way his jaw ticked at the challenge.