The night air was warm but carried just enough of a breeze to rustle the leaves overhead. Alina adjusted her light scarf and looked up at the string lights that zigzagged above the lawn, casting a golden glow over the retreat’s bonfire party. Laughter rang out in bursts, champagne flutes clinked, and the smell of roasted marshmallows and grilled kebabs filled the air.

She had only joined the firm a few weeks ago, but the corporate retreat had been the perfect opportunity to blend into the culture and meet her new colleagues outside the sterile glass walls of the office. Still, she felt like an outsider, watching everyone chatter in small cliques like they’d known each other for years.

She found an empty wooden bench near the fire and sank into it with a sigh. The flames danced and crackled in front of her, hypnotic and oddly calming. She pulled her cardigan tighter and let the warmth settle into her bones.

“Mind if I join you?”

The voice startled her—not because it was loud, but because it was low, smooth, and carried a warmth that matched the firelight. She looked up and blinked. The man standing before her was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the kind of effortless confidence that wasn’t cocky but magnetic.

“Not at all,” Alina said, gesturing toward the space beside her.

As he sat, she got a better look. His jawline was sharp, his hair a little tousled like he’d run his hand through it one too many times. His eyes—deep gray with a hint of green—held a calm amusement. He wore a casual button-down and jeans, but somehow managed to make it look like designer wear.

“I’m Ryan,” he said, offering his hand.

She hesitated a second too long before shaking it. “Alina.”

“Ah, the new strategist,” he said, smiling. “I’ve heard about you.”

Her brows lifted. “Already?”

“Well, you know how these things go. New people always get whispered about—especially when they’re the ones who cracked the Sharma pitch in two days.”

She smiled, a bit embarrassed. “That was just luck and too much coffee.”

He laughed. “Modest too. Dangerous combination.”

They talked easily, falling into a rhythm that felt… familiar. He had an easy charm, but he listened intently, like what she said actually mattered. They shared stories about horrible first jobs, office politics, and strange client requests. She laughed more in that one hour than she had in her entire first month at the company.

Somewhere in between teasing banter and the third refill of wine, she felt it—a connection. The kind you couldn’t fake or force. His gaze lingered when she smiled, and her fingers brushed his accidentally as she reached for her glass. Sparks. Real ones.

“So,” she said after a comfortable silence, “You’re Daniel, right? Marketing head?”

He blinked. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You think I’m Daniel?”

“Aren’t you?” she asked, confused.

He didn’t correct her immediately. Instead, he took a sip of wine, watching her over the rim of his glass. “Do you want me to be Daniel?”

She laughed nervously, trying to recover. “I mean, my friend Priya mentioned he’d be here, and I assumed—”

“I’m not Daniel,” he said gently, setting his glass down. “But I am flattered.”

She stared at him, a slow flush crawling up her neck. “Oh God. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be. It happens all the time,” he said easily. “He and I get mistaken for each other more often than we should.”

“You’re friends?”

“Best friends,” he said, his smile softening. “Work together too. He’s upstairs finishing a call, I think.”

Alina wanted to sink into the earth. Not only had she mistaken his identity, but she'd flirted—openly—with her boss’s best friend.

“I feel like an idiot,” she muttered.

“You’re not,” he said quickly. “You’re interesting. And honest. And a terrible guesser, clearly.”

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. He chuckled.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said. “How about a walk down by the lake? I promise, no more identity confusion.”

She looked up slowly. Something about his voice, his offer, felt like a challenge—but not in a dangerous way. More like an invitation to step outside the lines.

She hesitated only a moment before nodding.

They walked slowly, the soft gravel crunching under their shoes, silence folding around them like a shared secret. The moonlight shimmered over the lake, and the air carried the scent of pine and damp earth.

“Do you always come to these retreats?” she asked.

“Every year. Daniel and I started the tradition. He’s all business; I’m more of the... creative detour guy.”

“I can see that,” she said.

He stopped and turned to face her, the light catching the shadows of his face. “Do you believe that people meet for a reason?”

She hesitated. “Sometimes. Maybe. Why?”

“Because I don’t think tonight was random.”

Before she could respond, he leaned forward, slowly, giving her space to stop him. She didn’t. When his lips met hers, soft and certain, the rest of the world dissolved—the lake, the fire, the confusion. Just him. Just now.

She didn’t remember how they ended up back in her cabin. Only the trail of kisses, the way his hands trembled slightly, like he couldn’t believe she was real. She wasn’t thinking about work or her assumptions. Only about how natural it felt.

Later, tangled in sheets and drowsy in his arms, she smiled sleepily and whispered, “Goodnight, Daniel.”

There was a pause.

“I’m not Daniel,” he murmured again, so quietly she didn’t hear.

Morning sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, painting soft golden patterns across the hardwood floor. Alina stirred under the crumpled white sheets, her limbs tangled with warmth that wasn’t entirely hers. Her head felt a little heavy, a mix of leftover wine and emotional whiplash from the night before.

It wasn’t just a night. It had been a whirlwind.

The sound of slow, steady breathing beside her made her freeze. She slowly turned her head, her heart thudding as if she were waking from a dream she wasn’t sure she wanted to end. He was lying on his side, one arm tucked under his head, the other lightly draped over her waist.

He looked peaceful, his tousled hair and faint stubble catching the light. There was something strikingly familiar about him in the morning light. Something… off.

She blinked.

And then it hit her.

The wrong name.

The wrong man.

Last night, she had whispered "Goodnight, Daniel."

But this… this wasn’t Daniel.

Panic climbed up her throat like a wave crashing over a calm sea. She carefully pulled herself out from under his arm and sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. Her dress from last night lay in a careless puddle on the floor, along with his shirt. The events played back in her mind, blurry but intense—the conversation, the connection, the kiss, the lake, the bed.

She had mistaken his identity. He never claimed to be Daniel. He had even told her he wasn’t. Twice.

But she hadn’t heard it. Or worse—hadn't listened.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, running a hand through her tangled hair. “What did I do?”

Ryan stirred behind her. His voice was raspy, half-asleep. “You okay?”

Alina grabbed her dress and stood up, struggling to slip into it without tripping over her regret. “I need to go.”

He sat up slowly, confusion blooming across his features. “Alina, wait—”

“I can’t. This... this was a mistake,” she said quickly, her voice brittle. “You should’ve corrected me. I thought you were Daniel!”

“I told you I wasn’t,” he said, not unkindly. “Twice. You laughed it off.”

“That’s not the point!” she snapped, then regretted her tone. She sighed, softer this time. “I didn’t know who you were. I thought—God—I thought I was falling for someone else.”

Ryan looked down, processing her words with a clenched jaw. “So what does that make me? An accident?”

“I didn’t mean that,” she said, biting her lip. “This... this isn’t how I do things. I don't just sleep with people I’ve known for an hour.”

His gaze softened, though hurt flickered just beneath. “I didn’t plan this either, Alina. But it happened. And it felt... real.”

She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. Her body still buzzed with the afterglow of last night, but her mind was already ten steps ahead—replaying her mistake like a broken record. She had just slept with the best friend of the man she was beginning to genuinely like. And starting today, she would have to face both of them.

“I need to go,” she repeated, slipping on her heels as quietly as she could.

Ryan stood up, still shirtless. “Are you going to pretend last night didn’t happen?”

She paused by the door, her fingers tightening around the handle.

“I have to,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Because it shouldn’t have happened.”

Before he could say another word, she walked out.

---

The morning air was colder than she remembered. Her footsteps were quick and uneven as she made her way down the quiet path back to the main lodge. The retreat hadn’t fully woken up yet—someone was brewing coffee near the open buffet, and a few early birds were doing yoga on the lawn.

She slipped into her cabin unnoticed and collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

What had she done?

It was supposed to be a fresh start. A new job, a clean slate. She had been excited about meeting Daniel, whose name kept surfacing in meetings as one of the most brilliant minds in the company. Priya had even hinted that he was single. That night by the bonfire, she had genuinely believed she’d met him.

And now? She had ruined any chance of even a normal friendship with Daniel by crossing a line—with the one person she should’ve stayed far, far away from.

---

A few hours later, Alina stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her blazer. She had tied her hair up and applied enough makeup to hide the exhaustion under her eyes. She practiced her smile—polished, neutral, untouchable. She had to look composed. No one could know.

The first session of the morning was a team-building workshop, followed by breakout groups led by—of course—Daniel and Ryan.

Alina arrived early, picked a spot in the back, and busied herself with her notepad as people trickled in.

Then she heard his voice.

“Good morning, everyone!”

She looked up. Daniel walked in, all charisma and calm, greeting everyone with a confident nod. Behind him came Ryan, his expression more serious, less effortless than usual. His eyes scanned the room—stopping briefly on her.

She didn’t react.

Daniel’s voice pulled her attention. “We’ll be dividing into creative strategy groups. Ryan and I will each lead one. Should be fun, right?”

The room chuckled. Alina forced a tight-lipped smile.

She prayed she’d be in Daniel’s group.

But when names were read out, the universe—cruel and mocking—had other plans.

She was placed in Ryan’s team.

As he walked toward their table and took a seat across from her, their eyes met for the briefest second. Something passed between them—regret, hurt, or maybe just the weight of unspoken truths.

Ryan gave her a curt nod. No smile. No recognition.

Alina looked away.

One night. One mistake.

And it was already unraveling everything.

Alina sat stiffly in the backseat of the company shuttle van, her eyes fixed on the road as the retreat faded behind her like a memory she wasn’t ready to process. The rolling hills, the string lights, the lake — all of it had been a beautiful backdrop to what now felt like her worst judgment call in years.

She’d barely spoken a word during the morning session with Ryan’s team. He had been professional, crisp, and emotionally distant — almost to the point of coldness. He hadn’t even glanced her way, and for that, she was weirdly thankful. The last thing she wanted was a conversation, or worse, a confrontation.

Alina crossed her arms, fingers gripping her elbows. Her mind churned with fragments of the night — the firelight, his laughter, the lake, his kiss, his arms. That moment she whispered “Daniel” and felt completely at peace — only to realize hours later that her heart had trusted the wrong face.

She didn’t even have the courage to blame him. He hadn’t lied. He never said he was Daniel. She had jumped to conclusions, desperate to believe in some romantic narrative her mind had created. A smart, ambitious man meets a new hire. Sparks fly. It felt like something out of a book. But books had editors. Life didn’t.

What made it worse was that she hadn’t just made a mistake — she had dragged two men into the fallout. One of them, Daniel, didn’t even know yet. And the other? Ryan had looked at her like she’d ripped something out of him and then walked away without a word.

As the van slowed near the office building, Alina felt her stomach twist. This wasn’t over. They all worked under the same roof. Every hallway, meeting, and shared workspace would be a reminder. Her only hope was that maybe, just maybe, they could all pretend it never happened.

---

Back at her apartment that evening, Alina kicked off her heels, dropped her bag at the door, and collapsed onto the couch. The city buzzed outside her window, but inside, all was quiet — except for the spiraling thoughts.

She replayed the conversation in her head again and again.

> “Do you believe that people meet for a reason?”

“Because I don’t think tonight was random.”

Had he known? Had he been trying to warn her? Or had he been hoping she’d choose him even without the name?

Alina groaned and buried her face in a cushion. She wanted to scream, cry, rewind time — anything but sit in the messy reality she had created. She had broken her own rules. She never got involved with coworkers. She never blurred lines. And yet, the moment had felt so genuine, so real, that she had let her guard fall completely.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She stared at it, hesitant. A message from Priya lit up the screen.

Priya: Omg! I saw you in Ryan’s team today! He’s kinda hot, right? 😏 How was it?

Alina didn’t reply.

She couldn’t.

How could she explain that she had already crossed a line she couldn’t uncross? That she had confused her feelings and slept with the wrong man? That she now carried a secret so heavy it was crushing?

---

The next day at work, the elevator ride to the 17th floor felt like it lasted a year. Alina kept her head down, hoping to slip into her cubicle unnoticed. She had prepared herself for a day of silence — no jokes, no casual greetings, no eye contact with anyone named Ryan.

But as she rounded the corner into the shared office area, her heart stopped.

Ryan was already there.

He stood near the coffee machine, dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit that somehow made him look even taller, even more intimidating than usual. He held a mug in his hand, staring into it like it held the answers to something far deeper than caffeine.

He saw her.

Their eyes met.

And just like that, the breath she’d been holding escaped in a silent exhale.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. He simply held her gaze for a second longer than was comfortable, then turned back to his coffee and walked away.

Alina’s face burned.

She rushed to her desk, sank into her chair, and opened her laptop with trembling fingers. The keys clacked as she typed nonsense into a spreadsheet just to look busy. Inside, her chest pulsed with shame, confusion, and something she hated admitting — heartbreak.

Why did she care?

Why did it hurt?

She barely knew him. One night. That was all. And yet, the way he looked at her now — like she was a stranger again — hurt more than it should have.

---

Later that afternoon, she got an email. Her heart sank.

Subject: Creative Review – You, Me, Daniel

From: Ryan Thomas

Time: 3:12 PM

> Alina,

Daniel and I need your insights on the MetroDrive campaign before Thursday’s client review. Let’s do a joint session tomorrow, 11 AM, Conference Room C. Hope that works.

- Ryan

The message was curt. Business-only. No tone. No emotion.

She typed a reply, short and polite.

> Noted. I’ll be there.

Then she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Tomorrow, the three of them would sit in the same room. She would have to pretend nothing happened. Ryan would pretend he didn’t care. And Daniel — sweet, unsuspecting Daniel — would be sitting in the middle of a storm he didn’t even know was coming.

Alina had always believed in clean slates, in fresh starts.

But this time, she didn’t know if she’d ever feel clean again.