Anne blinked her eyes open.
For a moment, she didn't move—just lay there, tangled up in the soft sheets, staring at the high ceiling of the penthouse bedroom. It took a few seconds for her brain to catch up with reality.
Right. This wasn't her tiny room at her uncle's place. This was... his place.
She rolled over.
Empty.
Rayden's side of the bed was cold and untouched—like he hadn't even slept there.
Typical.
Dragging herself up, Anne yawned and shuffled to the kitchen. No signs of life. Not even the smell of coffee. The man really was a ghost.
But there was a note next to the fancy espresso machine:
Out for meetings. Don't wait for me. — R.
She squinted at it. Short. Straight to the point. So very Rayden.
Anne made herself a cup of coffee, curled up on the big sofa, and grabbed her phone—ready to scroll aimlessly like any other half-awake adult. That's when she saw it.
New email — Noctura Studio
Her eyes widened. That was fast.
She tapped the screen.
Anne tapped the email open, her thumb hovering like she wasn't sure if she was dreaming.
From:Noctura Studio OfficialSubject:Project Discussion — Meeting Invitation
Dear Ms. Dwasond,
Thank you for your previous response. We're excited about the potential of working together on the "Through Her Eyes" project. Our director, Mr. Daniel Liu, would love to meet and discuss the next steps with you in person.
Are you available for a meeting today at 2PM at the Noctura Studio office, Level 17, Nova Tower?
Looking forward to your confirmation.
— Team Noctura
Anne read it twice. Then again. Mr. Daniel Liu wants to meet me? Today?
She set her coffee down and blinked at the screen. This was real. Really happening.
She quickly typed a reply:
Yes, I'd love to. See you at 2PM. Thank you so much.
Then hit send before she could overthink it.
Her heart was beating a little too fast for 9AM. She looked down at her pajamas.
"Okay, Anne," she muttered to herself. "Time to not look like you've been stress-eating instant noodles for two years."
She hurried to her room. This was going to be her first official meeting for a project that actually mattered to her. And she was going to meet a real film director. No pressure, right?
By the time Anne arrived at Nova Tower, her palms were slightly sweaty, and she had double-checked her outfit at least six times.
Simple blouse. Long coat. Clean hair. Not too much makeup. Just enough to say "I'm serious, but also approachable." She hoped.
The elevator ride to the 17th floor felt longer than it should've.
When the doors opened, she was greeted by a sleek reception area—glass walls, minimalist furniture, and a faint scent of coffee and fresh paper. A young woman looked up from behind the desk and smiled.
"You must be Ms. Dwasond?"
"Yes," Anne nodded. "I have a meeting with Mr. Liu."
"Of course. He's expecting you. Right this way."
Anne followed her through a short hallway and into a spacious office with floor-to-ceiling windows.
And there he was.
Daniel Liu stood near the window, scrolling through something on his tablet. He looked up as she entered, and smiled—and just like that, the room felt warmer.
He wasn't what she expected.
Tall, yes. But instead of a stiff suit and cold eyes, he wore a casual blazer over a black turtleneck, and his smile was easy—disarming, even. His dark brown hair was slightly tousled, like he either didn't care or knew it worked for him.
"Anne Dwasond," he said, stepping forward and offering his hand. "It's great to finally meet you in person."
Anne shook his hand, trying not to look like her brain had momentarily short-circuited.
"You too, Mr. Liu. Thank you for inviting me."
"Call me Daniel," he said, motioning toward the seating area. "Let's sit. I've been looking forward to this meeting."
Anne let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"So," Daniel said, sliding a thick folder across the coffee table. "This is the draft concept we've been building for Through Her Eyes. I read your pitch—and honestly, it stayed with me."
Anne leaned forward slightly, curious. "Really?"
He nodded. "Most stories about women with cancer end the same way. Tragic. Predictable. But yours... was different."
He flipped open the folder and pointed to an early scene sketch—a woman standing in front of a mirror, her hair falling out in strands, but her eyes filled with quiet defiance.
"This part," he said, tapping the image, "it wasn't about loss. It was about strength. It felt personal."
Anne glanced at the sketch, then back at him.
"It was personal," she admitted. "My mom went through cancer. Twice. But she's in heaven now."
Daniel's expression softened. "That explains the ending. I loved it, by the way. Letting the character live—and live fully—was bold. And, I'm sorry for your lost."
"It's fine, It's a long time ago. Besides, I was tired of watching women disappear at the end of their stories," Anne said quietly. "I wanted one where she stays."
Daniel paused, then smiled. "You didn't just write a story. You wrote a fight."
Anne blinked. That… meant more than she expected.
"That's why I want you involved beyond just the pitch. I want your voice in the writer's room. We need it."
She looked at him—this calm, warm director who actually got it—and felt something click into place.
"I'd love to," she said, smiling. "Really."
Daniel leaned back, clearly pleased. "Good. I have a feeling this is going to be something special."
Anne practically floated all the way back to the penthouse.
The meeting with Daniel had gone better than she ever imagined. For the first time in forever, she felt like she was doing something that mattered—something that was hers.
She stepped out of the elevator, humming quietly to herself, when the doors to the penthouse lobby slid open—
—and nearly bumped into someone.
"Oh! Sorry!"
Brian blinked at her, holding a tote bag in one hand and his phone in the other. "Whoa. Didn't expect to get hit by a human ray of sunshine today."
Anne laughed. "Sorry, I was kind of... zoning out."
He tilted his head. "Good meeting?"
She nodded, grinning. "Really good."
Brian smiled. "Well, you're glowing. Either that meeting was amazing or you just saw a dog in a sweater."
Anne laughed again. "Both would've made my day, honestly."
They entered the penthouse together, and Anne felt a little lighter than usual. The silence of the place didn't feel so heavy when someone else was around.