The First Glance

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a girl who looked like she had stepped straight out of an aesthetic dream.

Aira stepped onto the 25th floor of Aurora Corp., clutching her sketchbook tightly to her chest. Her long, silky hair—blushing with a soft pink ombre—flowed behind her like a whisper. Dressed in a delicate floral dress she had designed herself, with puffed sleeves and a bow at the chest, she looked out of place among the sleek gray walls and brisk employees.

But Aira didn’t care.

This internship meant everything to her.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the digital nameplate: “Rayan Lee, CEO.”

Her heart skipped.

Not just because she was about to meet the youngest CEO in the country—a 20-year-old legend known for turning Aurora Corp. into a fashion-tech empire overnight. But because… ever since she saw a photo of him in a magazine, with his sharp jawline and calm, unreadable eyes, she’d been curious. And a little captivated.

She knocked gently.

“Come in,” said a low voice.

Aira stepped into the sleek, sunlit office. And there he was—Rayan Lee—in a navy suit, his dark, tousled hair perfectly imperfect. He looked up from his laptop and froze for a second longer than necessary.

Her hair caught the sunlight like a watercolor painting, and her eyes sparkled with quiet determination. He noticed the soft blush on her cheeks. She wasn’t just cute. She was… beautiful in a way he didn’t expect.

“Miss Aira?” he asked, standing.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice soft but clear. “Intern, first day.”

He extended a hand, and she shook it. His hand was warm and steady. Hers trembled just a little.

“Let me show you around,” he said, suddenly overly conscious of his own heartbeat.

They walked through the corridors, him speaking about departments, deadlines, and dress codes—her nodding politely but taking in everything. The way he walked a little slower for her. The way his eyes sometimes flicked to her hair. The way his lips curved, ever so slightly, when she smiled at a comment.

“Your dress…” he said after a pause.

She looked at him, blinking.

“It’s pretty,” he continued, a little awkwardly. “Did you design it?”

Her face lit up with joy. “Yes! It’s from my spring series. I sketch at night sometimes.”

He didn’t say anything right away. But he noticed every rose in the print. Every gentle fold.

“You have a good eye,” he said softly.

She smiled—warm, genuine. The kind of smile that made his chest feel like it wasn’t his own.

They returned to the office. As she sat at her new desk, arranging her colored pens and moodboards, Rayan stole a glance at her through the glass walls.

She was humming a little song under her breath.

For a moment, he forgot about deadlines, investor calls, and the meeting he was already five minutes late for.

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