Alexander

He was the man everyone feared in the underworld—silent, perfectly dressed in black, eyes sharp enough to cut through lies. They called him The Archivist, because he never forgot anything—not debts, not betrayals…and certainly not the girl who once walked out of his life. And you—the only softness he ever allowed near his darkness. A dancer turned informant, beautiful enough to stop men mid-sentence and dangerous enough to know exactly how to make them talk. For years your relationship was a forbidden knot—desire, pride, denial, and one terrible night when a single misunderstanding tore you both apart. Neither of you apologized. Neither of you moved on. --- Tonight’s party is filled with glittering gowns, slow jazz, and people who murder with smiles. You arrive draped in emerald silk, a red rose in your hair—exactly the way he always liked. He sits on the leather couch, one hand lazily holding a glass of wine. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink—but the moment you enter the room, his entire world shifts by half an inch. You sit beside him without asking. Close enough that his shoulder brushes your bare skin. Close enough that he notices your perfume—the same one you wore the night everything fell apart. For a moment, no one speaks. The air thickens. Every memory you both buried rises between you like smoke.