The grand chandeliers of the Rosewood Estate cast their golden glow over a sea of tuxedos and evening gowns. The charity gala was in full swing, a lavish display of wealth and philanthropy wrapped in soft jazz and the clinking of champagne glasses. Guests mingled under the ornate ceilings, their laughter echoing across marble floors and walls adorned with commissioned art.

Amidst the glitter and grandeur stood Athena Albrecht, poised in a midnight-blue gown that mirrored the storm clouds gathering outside. She moved with an air of quiet authority, the kind that turned heads and commanded hushed whispers. Her dark hair was swept into a sleek bun, her expression cool and unreadable. Many feared her in the boardroom, yet here, by her side, was the one person who could melt her frosted exterior with a single smile.

Sana Khatri, radiant in a blush-toned silk dress, laughed easily and often, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Where Athena exuded control and silence, Sana was chaos in bloom — joyful, bright, impossible to ignore. They made a striking pair as they moved through the crowd — fire and ice, tethered by years of friendship and unspoken understanding.

"Do you remember the time we snuck into your dad’s wine cellar and got caught drinking grape juice out of his vintage glasses?" Sana whispered, her laughter threatening to bubble over.

Athena's lips curved into a rare smile. "You swore it would make us look classy. You even said ‘cheers’ like a forty-year-old socialite."

"And you said grape juice was for peasants,” Sana added, pretending to flip her hair dramatically. “We were eleven. Absolute menace."

They wandered from room to room, stopping to greet old acquaintances, some of whom tried—unsuccessfully—to pry business talk out of Athena. But with Sana at her side, Athena wasn’t the CEO tonight. She was just a girl with memories—of barefoot summers and whispered dreams under starlit skies.

As the clock neared midnight, thunder growled low in the distance. Rain began tapping against the estate's arched windows.

“Let’s go,” Athena said, touching Sana’s arm gently. “It’s getting late.”

Sana glanced toward the ballroom, where couples were still dancing, and sighed. “Alright. But only if we get fries on the way back.”

Athena rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Fine.”

They exited through the side, sheltered briefly by a valet with an umbrella. Athena’s car—a sleek obsidian sports sedan—purred to life as they slid inside.

“You sure you want to drive?” Sana asked, fastening her seatbelt as droplets raced down the windshield. “It’s getting bad out.”

Athena’s fingers were already wrapped around the steering wheel. “I’m fine. I’ve driven in worse.”

The road home was a winding ribbon of asphalt stretched through hills and trees. Darkness pressed in on either side, the headlights casting pale beams that sliced through the falling rain. The windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the storm, their rhythmic whoosh barely audible over the drumming of the rain.

For a while, they sat in silence, the comfortable kind that only years of closeness could bring.

Sana eventually broke it. “You’ve changed, you know.”

Athena’s eyes remained on the road. “Everyone changes.”

“Not like that. You’ve… built walls so high no one even tries to climb them anymore. Except me. Lucky me.” She smiled, but there was something somber in it.

Athena tightened her grip on the wheel. “I don’t have time for softness, Sana. Not in the world I live in.”

“But you do have time,” Sana said softly. “You just forget how to use it.”

A beat passed.

Then Athena replied, barely above a whisper, “Maybe I’m afraid if I stop moving, everything will fall apart.”

Sana reached out and rested her hand over Athena’s. “That’s why I’m still here. So you don’t have to hold it all by yourself.”

The road curved sharply ahead, slick with rain. Athena adjusted the steering, but the tires slipped just slightly—enough to spike her heart rate. She eased off the accelerator, face composed, but alert now.

“Careful,” Sana murmured.

“I’ve got it,” Athena said, more to herself than to Sana.

But the storm had other plans.

As they approached a narrow bridge flanked by trees, a sudden gust of wind pushed against the car like an invisible force. Athena’s eyes widened as the headlights caught the shimmer of water pooling across the road — flash flooding.

She tried to slow, but the tires skidded. The world tilted.

A scream — Sana’s.

A jolt — metal crunching.

Glass shattered.

Darkness.

And then… silence.

The rain was relentless now—no longer a drizzle, but a downpour that slammed against the windshield like fists of water. The wipers moved furiously, their frantic swipes barely keeping up, smearing streaks of light from distant streetlamps and oncoming headlights. Outside, the world was a blur—trees bent in the wind, road signs warped by the storm, shadows dancing on the edges of the high beams.

Inside the car, the mood had shifted.

Athena leaned forward slightly, her jaw clenched, both hands gripping the steering wheel at ten and two. Her knuckles were pale, her eyes locked on the sliver of road that remained visible through the sheets of water. Every nerve in her body was alert, calculating.

“Should’ve let me drive,” Sana said, trying to inject levity into the thickening silence. “I’m the queen of navigating stormy roads, remember that road trip to Coorg?”

Athena didn’t respond, her lips pressed into a firm line.

Sana glanced at her, brow furrowing. “Hey. Relax a little. You’re driving like we’re being chased by assassins.”

Athena allowed herself a quick breath. “It’s not safe. The curves up ahead are sharp, and this rain—” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

The car's engine hummed steadily beneath them, but the tires occasionally stuttered over the slick pavement. Thunder cracked in the distance, loud enough to rattle their bones.

Sana shifted in her seat, her voice softer now. “Let’s just pull over, yeah? Wait out the worst of it?”

Athena shook her head. “No shoulder. And no visibility. We’re safer moving.”

Just as the words left her mouth, the road took a sudden turn—a sharp, narrow bend, hidden behind a slope of trees. Athena's eyes widened.

“Shit—”

She twisted the wheel, too late.

The tires screamed as they lost traction, the car jerking sideways before spinning out of control. The tail of the vehicle swung wide, fishtailing across the rain-slicked road. Sana screamed as her hands braced against the dashboard.

Everything exploded into chaos.

The vehicle slammed sideways into the steel guardrail. A sickening crunch echoed through the night as metal twisted like paper. The momentum lifted the car off the ground—then flipped it.

Time fractured.

They were airborne.

Glass shattered like crystal rain. The world spun violently—up became down, and down vanished into blinding flashes of white and black. The screech of tearing metal and the thunder of impact drowned out everything else.

Sana’s voice—just a breath of it—was lost in the crash.

A deafening silence followed, punctuated only by the hiss of the engine, the rhythmic tick of a dying turn signal, and the patter of rain now seeping into broken windows.

The car landed on its side in a ditch just off the road, crumpled like a discarded toy.

Inside, blood stained the leather seats. The air smelled of smoke, rain, and iron.

Athena’s head hung to the side, a streak of crimson running down her temple. Her eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, barely clinging to consciousness.

Sana’s body lay limp in the passenger seat, unmoving, her delicate bracelet tangled in shattered glass.

Then—

Darkness.

A breath caught.

Silence.

And the storm raged on.

A low, steady beeping pierced the silence.

Athena stirred, eyelids fluttering open to a haze of sterile white and soft shadows. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar—pale, cold, lit by the blue-tinted glow of hospital lights. Her throat felt raw, her limbs heavy, and her head pounded with a dull ache that throbbed behind her eyes.

She blinked slowly.

The scent of antiseptic, faint and sharp, confirmed what her mind couldn’t yet process. Machines clicked softly nearby. An IV line trailed from her arm. A heart monitor beeped steadily to her right. A faint pulse of pain moved through her ribs as she shifted, and a nurse’s voice echoed from somewhere down the hall.

Athena Albrecht, the woman who built empires and stared down billion-dollar boardrooms, was lying in a hospital bed, broken and barely breathing.

A doctor appeared at her side, his face calm but serious. “Miss Albrecht. You’re awake. That’s good.”

She tried to speak, but her throat wouldn’t cooperate. Only a rasp escaped.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” the doctor said gently, checking the monitor. “You’ve been unconscious for about sixteen hours. You sustained a concussion and some bruised ribs, but there’s no internal bleeding. No fractures. Frankly… it’s a miracle.”

Athena swallowed, her lips cracking as she finally croaked out, “Sana?”

The doctor paused.

She noticed it. That half-second of hesitation. The brief flicker in his eyes.

“Athena…” His tone shifted, softened. “I’m so sorry.”

The words hit harder than the crash ever did.

She didn’t hear the rest. Not the doctor’s condolences, not the nurse who quietly entered and adjusted the drip, not the sound of footsteps retreating as they left her alone.

Her lungs felt too small for the air in the room. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. Sana’s name echoed in her skull like a scream underwater. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping—praying—that this was still part of a nightmare, that she’d wake again, that she’d find Sana laughing at her bedside, making jokes about hospital food.

But there was nothing.

Just a memory. Just a void.

Images came flooding back, blurry and distorted. Rain. The road. Sana’s voice, rising in fear. The spin. The impact. The sound of glass—so much glass. Then silence.

She was the one behind the wheel. She was the one who insisted on driving. She was the one who didn’t slow down.

And now Sana was gone.

Athena turned her head away from the door, eyes fixed on the blank ceiling. The light above her buzzed faintly. The guilt didn’t creep in—it crashed, drowning her in a wave of cold, crushing weight.

She wanted to cry, to scream, to beg someone to turn back time.

But no tears came.

Only the hollow stare of a woman who had lost the only person that ever made her feel human.

Her fingers curled slowly into the scratchy hospital sheets, her breath shaky. Her mind spun in loops—searching, replaying, dissecting the moments leading up to the crash, as if the answer to why could bring Sana back.

But the answer never came.

And so, she lay there. Silent. Still. Shattered.

Alone.