In the Eyes of Fate

Emma Scott adjusted the straps of her apron for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to smooth out the creases that never seemed to stay in place. The grand ballroom shimmered with the glow of crystal chandeliers, casting soft golden light over the polished marble floors. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining the walls-her simple black apron and plain white shirt stood in stark contrast to the glittering gowns and tailored suits around her.

The clinking of glasses and soft murmur of voices filled the air, but Emma could barely hear it over the pounding of her heart.

Tonight, she wasn't Emma Scott, the girl with big dreams who worked two jobs. She was just another anonymous face in a sea of waitstaff, carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres for the city's elite. The kind of people whose names you only saw on glossy magazine covers, not in the same room as a small-town girl who could barely afford a decent meal.

But she needed this job. She needed to save every penny to fund her design dreams, even if it meant spending nights surrounded by wealth that seemed so far out of reach.

She pushed through the back door of the kitchen and into the main hall, the soft click of her heels echoing in the otherwise hushed space. She made her way toward a group of guests standing by the drink station, but as she rounded a corner, she collided with something-or other, someone.

The tray wobbled dangerously in her hands as she staggered back. "Oh! I'm so sorry," she blurted out, already reaching to steady the glasses.

But then she looked up.

The man who stood before her was nothing short of breathtaking. Tall, with dark, tousled hair that looked like it had been touched by the hands of a stylist and not a single strand out of place. His suit was fitted to perfection, the fabric rich and deep, hinting at a level of wealth she could only dream of. His sharp jawline was accentuated by a hint of stubble, and when he turned his eyes on her, she felt a flicker in her chest-icy blue eyes that seemed to cut through the chaos of the room, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip.

"Careful," his voice was low and a little gravelly, as though he hadn't spoken much all night. It had a certain weight to it, something heavy that she couldn't quite place.

Emma quickly straightened up, her hands still clutching the tray. "I-I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going."

His lips twitched in a half-smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. There was something distant about him, something that made her feel like she was intruding in his space. But even so, she couldn't help but be captivated by him. He was one of those people who seemed so perfectly put together that it was hard to imagine them as anything but untouchable.

"You're not with the catering," he said, his gaze flicking over her in a way that made her feel exposed. His eyes paused for a moment longer than was polite, and Emma wondered if he was trying to place her.

"No," she answered, glancing down at her apron. "I'm just here for the night. Temporary help, you know?"

There was a long pause as they stood facing each other, the world around them seeming to fade into the background for just a moment. The soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses barely registered in her ears. For a brief, inexplicable second, it was just the two of them-this man with his polished exterior and her, the ordinary girl who didn't belong in this world.

He seemed to notice the tension in the air, his lips forming a thin line. "Be careful. It's easy to get lost in a place like this," he said quietly, his gaze softening just a fraction, though his tone remained detached.

Before she could respond, he took a step back, breaking the brief spell. "Enjoy your night," he added, turning and disappearing into the crowd with the fluid grace of someone who was entirely at home in a world she could only imagine.

Emma stood there, staring after him, trying to shake off the feeling that something about that brief encounter had unsettled her. She couldn't place it-the way his eyes seemed to hold so much, or how, for just a moment, she'd felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so untouchable after all.

Shaking her head, she focused on the task at hand, but the image of his piercing eyes lingered in her mind long after he was gone.