The Dare

Alexander Hayes didn’t believe in fate.

He believed in numbers. Contracts. Deadlines.

And that when people left, they stayed gone.

Yet here he was—alone in a rooftop bar in Manhattan, the kind of place where people ordered whiskey for the aesthetic, not the burn. His glass sat untouched. The skyline stretched before him like a glittering temptation. All those lives. All that light. None of it touched him.

Exactly one year ago, everything he loved died in a single phone call.

The memory slammed into his chest with familiar cruelty. The rain-slick road. The sound of metal against metal. Tara’s name lighting up on his screen, only to vanish forever.

Everyone told him grief faded. That time would soften the edges.

Time, it turned out, was a liar.

He hadn’t cried. He hadn’t screamed. He hadn’t done anything except build taller walls, work longer hours, and learn how to function with a hollow in his chest.

But tonight felt different.

He couldn’t explain why.

Maybe it was the calendar. Or the silence. Or the guilt that clung to him like a second skin.

When his phone buzzed, he barely looked at it—until the sender’s name froze him in place.

From: Tara

Subject: Open on Our Anniversary

His thumb hesitated over the screen.

It was a scheduled message. Sent posthumously.

He inhaled sharply and opened it.

Alex,

If you’re reading this… it means I’m gone. I probably didn’t get to say goodbye. And knowing you, you’ve shut down. Again.

But you weren’t made to live like that. You weren’t meant to freeze.

So here’s my last request. My dare. Take one year. One year to try again. Not for me—for you. Fall in love, even if it’s not with me.

Live again.

Yours, always,

Tara

The screen blurred.

Alexander set the phone down with deliberate calm. He stared at the glass of whiskey, then past it—at the skyline he’d once dreamed of conquering.

“One year,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “You want me to fall in love… in one year?”

A bitter smile pulled at his lips.

“Fine, Tara. I accept your dare.”

⸻

Across the city…

Brielle Morgan didn’t believe in signs, but today felt like the universe had given her the middle finger.

She’d started the morning with a spilled coffee, missed her subway stop, and ended her shift at the travel magazine with a spectacular exit: telling their wealthiest client—Alexander Hayes, no less—that he had the emotional depth of a teaspoon.

She’d been fired on the spot.

Now, with rent overdue and her younger brother’s hospital bills piling up, she wandered into a bar she couldn’t afford, trying to quiet the chaos in her head.

Five minutes. She just needed five minutes where she wasn’t a disaster.

She didn’t notice the man sitting in the shadows near the windows. But he noticed her.

Eyes tired, posture defensive, coat clutched like armor—she looked like someone who had spent the day fighting battles no one else could see.

And in that moment, Alexander Hayes made a decision.

If he was going to take Tara’s dare…

If he was going to feel again…

It would start with her.

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