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The Lives We Didn't Choose (AJS Roleplaying x Kita-san)

AJS Roleplaying

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Joined
May 24, 2025
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The Emerald Isle

The Lives We Didn't Choose
A Roleplay Brought to You By:




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Adrian 'AJ' Carlson Jr.
written by AJS Roleplaying




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Verena "Rena" Bristol
written by Kita-san


 
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Verena's lips curled into a warm smile as AJ extended his hand toward her. There was something steady and unspoken in the way he offered it—not demanding, not formal, just open. She slipped her fingers into his, their palms meeting with a softness that made her heart flutter unexpectedly. His grip was firm but gentle, and she returned the gesture with a light squeeze, letting him know without words that she was there—present and willing to be part of whatever this was.

"You look good," she said, her voice quiet but sincere. And he really did. The suit he wore looked as though it had been tailored just for him, accentuating his height, the sharp lines of his shoulders, the confidence in his stride. She couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he carried himself. AJ cleaned up better than she had imagined, and yet it wasn't just the clothes. He exuded certainty, a kind of quiet command that drew her in.

He was walking into something he clearly understood, something that mattered to him—and Verena felt a flicker of excitement watching him prepare to step into his world. For once, she wasn't leading. She wasn't navigating or smoothing things over. She was following, willingly, and it felt strangely freeing.

Hand in hand, they exited the suite and moved toward the elevator at the end of the hallway. The plush carpet muffled their steps, and the silence between them was companionable, charged with anticipation but not tension. When the elevator doors slid open, they stepped inside together. Verena stood close to him, comforted by his presence.

As the elevator descended, she pulled out her phone to check the time. 8:47 a.m. She noticed, too, the blank screen—no messages, no missed calls. Nothing from James. Of course not. She hadn't expected any different. If anything, she had braced for it.

James always needed distance. Always claimed space was his version of love, that not calling meant he trusted her. But it had never felt like love. It felt like avoidance. Detachment. Like she was optional. And yet, to her own surprise, the silence didn't sting today. Not even a little.

She tucked her phone away.

This weekend wasn't about James. It wasn't about being missed or chosen. It was about AJ—about stepping into his life, on his terms. She was here, fully present, and the shift in her focus was like a breath of clean air. AJ wanted her there. He had said it directly, but she could also see it in the way he looked at her, the way he reached for her hand, the way he made room for her beside him.

She glanced up at him, wondering. I wonder what the conference will be like. Does he have any friends attending or people he’s worked with before? She tried to picture him shaking hands, laughing with colleagues, discussing things she didn't understand. Does he socialize at this thing?

The elevator chimed, breaking her train of thought as the doors slid open to the hotel lobby. Verena inhaled quietly, steadying herself. She didn't need to have all the answers. She was happy just being next to AJ, following his lead into whatever came next.
 
They walked together down the quiet city street, fingers interlaced in a simple but meaningful gesture that felt as natural as breathing. The morning was crisp but pleasant, the kind of day that offered promise without demanding anything in return. Their destination was a modest café tucked into a corner near the downtown district - nothing fancy, but charming enough to feel personal, like a place they could call their own, if only for an hour.

Time was limited. AJ was due on stage in just under sixty minutes, and the convention centre was only a ten-minute cab ride away. That gave them just enough time to share a relaxed breakfast, a quiet moment before the whirlwind of speeches, networking, and professional obligations swept him away.

They placed their orders at the counter - two coffees and a couple of savoury pastries. AJ chose an Italian sausage roll wrapped in delicate filo pastry. It wasn't his usual morning fare, but after the exertions of the previous night - and again this morning - he figured he'd earned something a bit more indulgent. It was rich, flaky, and surprisingly satisfying, not unlike the sense of contentment warming his chest as he sat beside her. He glanced her way with a smile that said more than the casual words that accompanied it: "I could get used to this."

He wasn't just talking about the breakfast. There was something about being next to Verena that felt remarkably... easy. Not simple, because she wasn't simple - she was layered, nuanced, endlessly intriguing - but easy, in that unforced, right-place, right-time kind of way. She fit beside him like a puzzle piece he hadn't known was missing. There was no strain, no second-guessing. Her presence didn't distract him, it grounded him.

He was genuinely thrilled to have her here with him. It wasn't a matter of flaunting her, or making a statement. It just felt right to share this experience with her. He had brought someone once before, years ago. Serena. That had been a mistake, though he hadn't known it at the time. She had spent nearly the entire weekend on her phone, disengaged and visibly bored. That particular conference had been a big one - his first major presentation. A milestone. But instead of celebrating it, they had ended up arguing well into the night. Harsh words, sharp silences. Looking back now, that weekend felt like a turning point. The beginning of the end.

And yet here he was, a decade later, preparing for another defining moment in his career - but this time, with someone entirely different by his side. Was this the beginning of something real? Something lasting?

Thirty minutes later, they were stepping into the grand glass atrium of the convention centre. Light filtered down from the vaulted ceiling, casting geometric patterns across the marble floors. AJ made his way to the registration table, collecting his speaker badge and arranging a visitor pass for Verena. He always had one ready, just in case. In years past, it had been intended for Serena, though she hadn't accompanied him since that long-ago conference in Charlotte. That had been ten years ago, yet somehow the memory still lingered, the way disappointment tends to cling longer than it should.

With badges in hand, they entered the main auditorium. The room was much larger than AJ had remembered - more cavernous, more imposing. He had sat among these rows countless times over the last five years, watching keynote speakers and panel discussions with a mix of admiration and envy. Now, for the first time, he would be standing on the other side of the spotlight. He would be the one behind the microphone, addressing the crowd on the future of sustainable architecture.

He exhaled slowly, letting his eyes travel across the rows of empty seats that would soon be filled with colleagues, competitors, and curious minds. The weight of it all began to settle on his shoulders - not anxiety, exactly, but awareness. This was a moment that mattered.

"AJ!"

A bright, enthusiastic voice cut through the stillness. He turned to see Carolina Santos approaching, her energy as unmistakable as ever. As the head organiser of the event and a respected figure in the world of architecture, Carolina's presence always carried a certain gravity. Her smile was warm and genuine, and AJ returned it with one of his own.

She greeted him with the ease of old friends and launched straight into praise. She spoke of how grateful they were to have him speak, how the industry needed more voices like his - especially on the subject of sustainable development. What he and his firm had accomplished in the past few years was, in her words, "nothing short of ground breaking."

AJ felt a flush of pride, tinged with humility. Compliments like that still made him uncomfortable, no matter how hard he had worked to earn them. Eager to deflect some of the attention, he turned slightly, gesturing to Verena at his side.

"Verena, I'd like you to meet Carolina Santos," he said, introducing the organiser with a tone of genuine respect. "She's one of the leading figures in West Coast architecture. Carolina, this is Verena Bristol - an incredibly gifted artist from back home. She just wrapped up her most successful show yet and has been a passionate advocate for underrepresented voices in the art world."

Carolina's smile widened as she turned to greet Verena, and AJ watched the two women acknowledge one another. In that moment, he felt something shift - not dramatically, but meaningfully. He wasn't just stepping onto a stage today. He was stepping into something new, something hopeful. And Verena was right there with him.

Maybe, just maybe, this was their beginning.​
 
Inside the cafe, they placed their orders—AJ chose an Italian sausage roll, layered in buttery filo that flaked apart when he bit into it. She went with a warm spinach and goat cheese tart that reminded her of something she used to make when she had the time to cook for herself. Her coffee was black with a splash of oat milk.

Across the table, his eyes met hers mid-bite, and he smiled—lazy and charming, like the weight of the day hadn't found him yet.

I could get used to this.

He wasn't just talking about breakfast. And she knew that. She didn't respond right away. She just held his gaze for a second too long, then looked down at her plate, a quiet flutter moving behind her ribs.

What is this becoming? And why does it feel so easy…

She liked him. More than she'd planned to. But AJ wasn't a casual kind of man, and this didn't feel casual. That realization brought both warmth and warning. Because she had been here before. Or somewhere like it. Not with someone like him, though. Never like this.

Thirty minutes later, they stepped into the grand glass atrium of the San Francisco Convention Center, and the energy shifted. It was immediate. From calm and intimate to professional and high-stakes. Light poured in from skylights above, scattering across the marble floors in fractured beams. Everything about the space screamed ambition, innovation, forward motion. Verena felt the tempo of AJ's pulse change just slightly beside her—more focused, but not nervous. Just ready. He moved with purpose now.

They moved into the auditorium next. It was massive. Vaulted ceilings, rows upon rows of pristine white chairs, a polished stage that gleamed beneath the recessed lighting. She imagined what it would look like in an hour—full of people, eyes watching, notebooks open, phones recording.

She looked at AJ and saw the weight settle over him—not fear, but something heavier: significance. He wasn't just speaking. He was stepping into something defining.

A voice was smooth, confident, and unmistakably familiar called out for AJ.

Verena turned with him and saw the woman approaching—elegant, stylish, with that polished kind of authority that only came from years of being excellent at what you do. The kind of woman who didn't ask for the room's attention—she just had it.

Verena took her in quickly: a tailored emerald blazer, sleek bob, gold necklace layered over a silk blouse. She looked like someone who lived and breathed this world. And clearly, she knew AJ well. She stood tall beside him, listening as Carolina heaped praise on his work—on how essential his voice was to the conversation about sustainability, how grateful they were to have him. Verena watched as AJ accepted the compliments with his usual modesty. This made Verena smile. She loved this for him, she could see the pride he felt.

Then he turned, pulling her gently into the spotlight. The introduction AJ gave for her caught her off guard. It was quite sweet and it carried some weight of course. Verena smiled softly at the woman and extended her hand.

"Hello, it’s nice to meet you Carolina.” Verena found herself connecting with Carolina in more ways than one. The two couldn’t seem to stop talking but the start time was growing closer. Carolina reluctantly excused herself, she had to check on a few more things before the conference could start.

Verena said her goodbye and then turned to AJ. “She’s great.” Verena said with a smile. Being here with him was already feeling like home. She felt at ease. She didn't feel like a plus-one. She didn't feel like a distraction from his real life. She felt like she belonged.

“Where will we be sitting or where should I sit. I want a good view of you.” She said with a playful smile. Verena didn’t know if there was specific seating for certain people, she figured there were some big profile people and that they would have designated tables.

“This is so exciting. I can’t wait for you to give your speech.” She looked at AJ. “It’s it weird for me to feel a little bit proud? Like I totally had not part in this at all but I’m proud of you.”
 
AJ smiled at her question, his hand lifting in a light, easy gesture toward the seats directly in front of them.

"Right here in the front row," he said, his voice warm with anticipation. "All the speakers and their guests are seated at the front for easier access to the stage."

In the next few moments, Carolina reappeared, calling him away with the brisk efficiency of someone juggling a dozen priorities at once. AJ gave Verena a final glance as he turned to follow, the kind of look that didn't need words - just the lift of his brow and the curve of his lips that said thank you for coming, thank you for caring.

He hadn't admitted to anyone how much her presence today meant to him. This wasn't just another industry event. It was the kind of moment he had envisioned in the quiet hours of long workdays and even longer nights - where possibility felt distant, and recognition was still a fantasy. To have her here, seeing him not just as a man but as a professional standing in his element, validated something deeper than pride.

Backstage, the energy was focused and electric. He was introduced to the other speakers, each a recognized expert in their own sector. A woman from the tech industry, a clean-energy startup founder from Oslo, a logistics executive focusing on low-emissions transport. Each had carved a path of innovation in their own field. They were all here for one reason: to speak on sustainable development from a diversity of perspectives. AJ was last on the agenda, delivering the keynote to close the session. The position wasn't just symbolic; it was significant. The keynote wasn't given. It was earned. And yet, even as he stood there shaking hands and exchanging brief pleasantries, part of him still found it hard to believe he'd made it here.

He had spent years refining his voice in rooms where his presence had once felt like an afterthought. But he had stayed, learned, built, and pushed forward with stubborn resilience. He had done the work. He had designed buildings, not just with form and function in mind, but with responsibility. He had spent his twenties sketching blueprints and his thirties fighting to prove why those blueprints mattered. He wasn't just a man with a vision now - he was a man people listened to.

From the wings, he watched the other speakers take their turn. The audience was engaged, responsive, leaning forward in their seats and asking thoughtful questions. He felt the rhythm of the event in his chest—each voice adding a new layer to the narrative of sustainability.

And then it was his turn.

Carolina's voice rang out with the crisp professionalism of a practiced MC, her words warm and succinct: "And to close out today's panel, please welcome our keynote speaker, AJ Carlson - architect, innovator, and advocate for sustainable urban development."

He stepped onto the stage, greeted by a wave of applause that filled the room with its sincerity. For a moment, he let the hum of it settle in his ears, grounding him. Then he stepped up to the podium, adjusted the microphone, and began.

"Good afternoon. I'm honored to be here today, closing out what has already been a rich and thought-provoking series of talks.

I want to speak to you today about buildings. Not just as structures of steel and concrete, but as living, breathing ecosystems. As architects, we are often tasked with shaping the environments people will live, work, and grow in. That responsibility doesn't just stop at the aesthetics or the practicality of a floor plan. It extends to how our choices affect the planet, today and for generations to come.

Sustainable development in architecture is more than installing solar panels or green roofs. It's about designing with purpose, considering the life cycle of a building from the materials we choose to the way we allow natural light to cut energy consumption, to how we treat water runoff and incorporate native vegetation. It's about recognizing that every decision we make contributes to a broader environmental narrative.

We have to stop treating sustainability as an add-on. It must be embedded from the start, in every stage of design and construction. Too often, environmental considerations are brought in at the eleventh hour - token gestures to tick a box. But truly sustainable architecture asks us to interrogate our assumptions about space, value, and permanence.

There's a myth that green buildings are inherently more expensive or less feasible. That's simply not true. With advances in technology, smarter material sourcing, and integrated design strategies, we can build structures that are both economically and environmentally efficient. We just have to prioritize it.

But more than materials and methods, we need a shift in mindset. We need to stop asking, 'Can we afford to build sustainably?' and start asking, 'Can we afford not to?'

We are the stewards of the built environment. What we design today becomes the inheritance of tomorrow. Let's make it one we're proud to pass on."

He stepped back from the microphone to a silence that held for half a second longer than expected. Then the applause came - louder, fuller, stretching out. The applause faded gradually, giving way to a low hum of anticipation. AJ remained at the podium, his hand lightly resting against its edge. Carolina reappeared briefly on stage, offering a few words of thanks before turning to the audience.

"We now have time for a few questions," she announced. "If you'd like to raise your hand, a mic will be brought to you."

A few arms went up immediately. The first mic was handed to a middle-aged man in a navy suit near the centre.

"Thank you, AJ. Really compelling talk. You mentioned embedding sustainability from the very beginning of a project - how do you convince stakeholders, especially investors, to prioritize those long-term gains when they're so often focused on short-term returns?"

AJ nodded, welcoming the question.

"It's a common challenge," he began. "The key is to reframe the conversation. I present sustainability not as a cost, but as a value multiplier. Reduced energy costs, increased tenant retention, higher resale value - these are quantifiable benefits that speak to a stakeholder's bottom line. But more than that, I show them how buildings that anticipate future regulation and climate volatility are inherently lower-risk investments. It's about proving that sustainability isn't just ethical - it's strategic."

The man gave a thoughtful nod, clearly satisfied. Another hand shot up from the left side. The mic went next to a younger woman in a crisp black dress, likely an architecture student or early-career designer based on her lanyard.

"Hi AJ, thank you for your insights. I'm curious - how do you balance sustainability with local cultural identity, especially in urban developments? How do you make something green without it feeling sterile or out of place in its environment?"

AJ smiled, appreciating the nuance.

"That's a fantastic question. Sustainability should never come at the expense of character or community. In fact, it should enhance it. I always begin with place-based research - understanding the climate, the materials historically used in that region, and the way communities have interacted with their environment over time. For example, in coastal cities I've worked in, we've drawn on vernacular architecture - courtyards, deep eaves, ventilated facades - and reinterpreted those ideas with modern methods and sustainable materials. You can design responsibly without erasing identity. In fact, sustainability that ignores culture is incomplete."

There was a brief murmur of agreement among those nearby. More hands went up now. AJ had clearly struck a chord.

The third question came from a man toward the back, with a journalist's badge and a notepad already half-filled with scribbles.

"AJ, do you think the current educational pipeline in architecture is doing enough to prepare new graduates for the sustainability challenges ahead?"

AJ didn't hesitate.

"Honestly? Not yet. While things are changing, many programs still treat sustainability as an elective 0 an optional extra rather than a core principle. That has to shift. Climate literacy needs to be foundational. We need to train architects to think systemically - from material sourcing and embodied carbon, to how buildings affect biodiversity, public health, and social equity. The problems we face require integrated thinking. Academia has to catch up, and fast."

He paused, then added, "That said, I'm optimistic. I'm seeing more students pushing for this change than institutions. The next generation isn't waiting for permission to care."

A quiet laugh moved through the room.

Carolina glanced at the clock and signalled that there was time for one final question. The mic was passed to an older woman with silver hair tied back in a low knot. She wore a linen blazer and had the presence of someone who'd spent a career in policy or urban planning.

"My question is a practical one. In cities where legislation still lags behind green innovation, how do you push sustainable design forward without running afoul of outdated codes?"

AJ gave a small chuckle, though the topic was far from amusing.

"That's the constant dance, isn't it? In those cases, I work closely with city officials from the beginning. You don't present them with a finished concept and expect them to bend rules - you bring them in early, explain your vision, and show how it aligns with the spirit, if not the letter, of the code. And when needed, I've leaned on third-party certifications to build credibility. Also, having pilot projects and data from other regions helps. It's a lot of advocacy, frankly. But as more municipalities start prioritizing climate goals, I find those doors are slowly opening."

The woman nodded appreciatively, her expression thoughtful.

Carolina returned to the stage, microphone in hand.

"Thank you all for your excellent questions - and thank you again to AJ for closing today's session with such insight and energy."

The audience rose in another round of applause, warm and sustained. AJ offered a small bow of acknowledgment before stepping away from the podium. As he made his way offstage, the sense of accomplishment didn't hit him all at once, but in quiet waves. Each question had reminded him that this - this conversation, this connection between idea and audience - was what the work had been building toward. Years of quiet effort had led to this moment: not a conclusion, but a beginning, and a powerful one.

And in the front row, he knew Verena had been there to see it all.​
 
Verena had never seen AJ like this.

She had known he was passionate about his work — had seen the spark in his eyes when he talked about sustainable materials or urban integration over late-night dinners or quiet Sunday mornings. But this was something else entirely. This was AJ in his element. And it took her breath away.

From the moment Carolina called him away, Verena had felt a shift — like something important was about to unfold. He had given her a look, subtle but full of meaning, and then he was gone, swallowed up by the backstage current. She had taken her seat in the front row as instructed, heart beating a little faster than she expected. Maybe it was anticipation. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was both, tangled in a knot she hadn't even realized was there.

And then he walked out onto the stage.

The applause that met him felt deserved, not just polite. He stood under the lights with a calm self-assurance that made her blink twice. There was a stillness to him, not stiffness, but poise — like he belonged there, like he had always belonged there. AJ had always been attractive to her — his mind, his warmth, the way he thought deeply before speaking. But this? This was something magnetic. He didn't just speak — he commanded. The room didn't just listen — it leaned in.

His voice was steady, confident, but not rehearsed. It had the ease of someone who wasn't just reading a script, but living it. Verena felt herself hang onto every word, pulled in not just by the content, but by the way he told it. His words weren't lofty or abstract; they were grounded, impactful. She had expected intelligence — of course she had — but what caught her off guard was how charming he was. Witty, articulate, completely at ease. He spoke like he was offering people a door to walk through, and they were eager to follow.

Her eyes didn't leave him once.

She noticed the subtle things: the way he rested one hand on the edge of the podium, fingers tapping lightly when he made a particularly important point. The slight smile he gave when someone asked a thoughtful question. The sparkle in his eyes when he referenced innovation or the next generation — like he truly believed in the future he was fighting for.

Verena had sat through dozens of panels before — polished talks with buzzwords and surface-level passion. But this was different. He was different. His conviction wasn't just professional — it was personal. He wasn't trying to impress anyone; he was trying to wake them up.

And when the questions began, he didn't falter. Each answer was like another facet of him she hadn't seen before — the strategist, the advocate, the teacher. He didn't deflect or dilute. He engaged. And the audience responded in kind — leaning forward, nodding, asking more.

Verena found herself smiling softly as he answered the student's question about culture. Of course he would say that sustainability should enhance identity, not erase it. Of course he'd value place-based knowledge. It was exactly what had drawn her to him in the first place — that ability to see not just what could be done, but what should be done.

By the time he fielded the final question, she wasn't just impressed — she was in awe.

She felt something shift inside her — a deeper recognition of who he was. Not just the man she cared about, but the man the world was beginning to see, beginning to listen to. This was the same AJ who was horrible at tying his tie, who walked with her through markets pointing out design quirks in old buildings. And yet, he was also this — this figure of influence, this force of vision and precision and hope.

As the final applause rang out and he stepped off the stage, her hands were already in motion, clapping hard enough to sting. Her heart was full. Not just with pride — though that was part of it — but with something even more intimate. Admiration. A quiet reverence for everything he had built, not just in his career, but in himself.

And when his eyes scanned the front row again, finding hers, she knew without needing to speak: He had let her see him. All of him. And she would never forget it.

The moment the session ended, the room buzzed with energy — applause still echoing faintly, people rising from their seats, voices overlapping in conversation. Verena stood slowly, as if the weight of what she'd just witnessed needed a moment to settle in her bones. She was still holding her breath in a way — heart lifted, soul stirred. Her fingers smoothed the front of her dress, not out of self-consciousness but to give her hands something to do while she waited for him.

AJ had disappeared backstage again, caught in the undertow of people — organizers, speakers, a few eager attendees angling for a quick handshake or a word of thanks. She saw glimpses of him — the curve of his shoulder, the shape of his silhouette in the wing — and every time her gaze found him, something inside her tightened. Not in anxiety. In anticipation.

And then, finally, he reappeared. He stepped out from a side corridor near the edge of the stage, loosened slightly now — the formal tension that had held his shoulders tight during the talk had relaxed. He looked like himself again, but also… more. Brighter, somehow. Like something inside him had been affirmed.

Verena stepped forward without hesitation. She couldn't wait any longer. "You," she said quietly, her voice low but brimming. "That was—" She stopped, at a loss for a word big enough. She shook her head, eyes locked on his. Her voice dropped into a kind of reverence. "AJ… I've never seen you like that before." She stepped a little closer. "You were… electric. I mean, I always knew you were good at what you do, but up there?" Her hand lifted, almost like she was painting his presence on stage in the air. "You weren't just good. You were extraordinary. You owned that room."

There was a pause between them — charged, quiet, full.

"I couldn't take my eyes off you," she admitted, voice softer now. "Not for a second. You were powerful and thoughtful and funny and—God, AJ, you were so in your element. You made everything feel alive."
 
Verena's words lingered in his mind long after they were spoken, as though they had been carved into the very air around him. You weren't just good. You were extraordinary. A simple sentiment on the surface, yet it struck him with unexpected force, lodging itself in his chest like a splinter too deep to remove. He had been praised before, by peers, by mentors, by collaborators. But there was something profoundly different about hearing it from her. Something unguarded, sincere, and devoid of the perfunctory polish that usually wrapped such compliments. It made him think. More specifically, it made him compare.

He couldn't help but be pulled back into memory - years ago now - standing under the harsh, artificial lighting of another conference venue, not so different from this one. He had been younger then, more eager to impress, still driven by the hunger to prove himself not just professionally, but personally. He had been accompanied that time by Serena. He could still recall the way she smiled politely through the dinner events, nodded at the right moments during his speech, offered a few choice words to his colleagues. But when it came to him - his ideas, his passion, the way he lit up when speaking about his work - she had remained coolly silent. If she had ever been moved, she had never said so. Her admiration, if it existed, had remained buried beneath the polished veneer of strategic alignment.

That had been the nature of things between him and Serena. Their relationship had always been defined by precision, calculation, mutual advantage. A merging of reputations as much as lives. The power couple - he with his rising influence in sustainable urbanism, she with her clout in the finance sector. On paper, they had been perfect. They had even believed it for a time, convincing themselves that love could be constructed like a well-designed project, all angles and numbers, charts and timelines. But the architecture of their relationship, though elegant, had always lacked warmth. Somewhere along the way, the transaction had become the foundation. And when the foundation is transactional, eventually the structure starts to crack.

It hadn't been obvious at first. They had played the roles so well - brilliant, composed, admired. But he had begun to notice the gaps. The way her eyes glazed over when he spoke of ideas that didn't involve quarterly projections. The way their conversations grew shorter, shallower, until they were little more than executive summaries of each other's lives. He had begun to sense it during quiet moments, especially after events like this - when the applause faded, and they returned to the hotel room not as lovers, but as cohabitants of the same spreadsheet.

It was only in knowing Verena that he had come to fully grasp the depth of that flaw. Verena, who asked questions not just to appear interested, but because she was interested. Verena, who made him feel like the work he did mattered - not just on a global scale, but to her, personally. It was an unspoken kind of reverence, something soft and steady that wrapped itself around the edges of his ambition and gave it a new kind of resonance.

And so, when she looked at him now - with a kind of awed pride that felt both grounding and elevating - he felt a shift within himself, subtle but seismic. He hadn't just performed well up there. He hadn't just delivered a polished talk. He had connected. And not just with the audience, but with her. Somehow, that mattered more.

"Thank you. That felt great, and it seems the audience was in tune with what we want to achieve in sustainable development. That's inspiring."

Still, the day moved forward. He could hear Carolina now, calling to him from just beyond the edge of the moment, reminding him of his next commitment. A closed-door panel on sustainable material selection - technical, focused, inward-facing. No public applause, no grand declarations. Just experts around a table, debating the future of responsible architecture.

It was time to go. "I think this is your chance to escape and start shopping for that dress. I'll see you back at the hotel."

He offered her a parting touch - a kiss, a squeeze of the hand, a silent acknowledgment of the shift she had helped trigger - and then turned toward his next obligation. His steps were purposeful, his expression composed. But somewhere behind that composed exterior, something profound was quietly unfolding.

The contrast between what he had just felt and what he was walking toward sharpened something inside him. The professional and the personal, once so tightly interwoven, now felt like layers he could shed or adopt as needed. And yet, for the first time in a long while, he was aware of which part of himself felt more real.

And for the first time in years, he didn't feel the need to justify how or why he had arrived at this place. He just felt certain that he was no longer lost.​
 
Verena stepped into the sunlight, leaving behind the cool shadows of the conference center and the lingering electricity of AJ's voice in her ears. The sound of his final words still rang gently in her head — "I think this is your chance to escape." It was said lightly, with a smile. But it felt heavier than it sounded. A door opening. Or maybe closing.

She walked slowly at first, letting the rhythm of the city absorb her thoughts. She should've been scrolling through dress options, checking store hours, making a plan. But instead, she found herself drifting — physically, emotionally — replaying the last few hours with a growing ache she didn't quite know how to name.

AJ had been brilliant. And not just professionally. The way he spoke on stage, the way he lit up discussing things that mattered, the way his energy rippled into the audience and then landed squarely on her — it had done something. Stirred something.

She turned a corner, finally beginning the walk toward the upscale boutiques near the heart of the city. She needed to focus. The gala was tonight. But even as she passed sparkling window displays, her mind tugged her elsewhere.

James.

She inhaled slowly. There had been a time — not long ago — when just thinking of him brought comfort. Familiarity. Warmth, even. He was good. Steady. The kind of man who planned things down to the minute and who had asked her to marry him not in a moment of wild passion, but over a carefully prepared dinner, with a presentation and a spreadsheet forecasting their future. She had said yes, not because it swept her off her feet, but because it didn't have to. It was logical. Safe. Sensible and she loved him. But now… now the box that was too neatly packed became a mess filled with lies and heartbreak.

And AJ… AJ wasn't in the box.

He was the part of her she hadn't realized was starving. The part that wanted to be seen — not just supported. Celebrated, not just accommodated. He made her laugh without trying. He listened with his whole self. And when he looked at her after the panel, like he truly saw her — not just the version she curated — something deep in her shifted.

She paused outside a boutique with floor-to-ceiling windows. The mannequins wore sleek silhouettes and gowns that seemed to shimmer like they had secrets. One dress caught her eye immediately — deep emerald satin, with an open back, delicate halter neckline, and a thigh-high slit that whispered elegance but hinted at fire. It was bold. Sophisticated. Sexy.

Unexpected. Just like this entire trip.

Verena stepped inside. The boutique was quiet, the kind of place where each garment hung like a work of art and the sales associate's smile was soft but discerning. She pointed to the emerald gown with a quiet confidence she didn't even fully recognize in herself.

In the dressing room, she slipped it on. The fabric hugged her like it already knew her curves. It didn't need embellishment. It was the statement. And as she stood before the mirror, she didn't see someone trying to impress a room. She saw someone stepping fully into herself.

She would wear this tonight. For the gala. For the version of her that had been quietly evolving since stepping off the plane. She didn't know what would happen. With AJ. With James. With everything.

But one thing was becoming clear. When she returned from this trip, she would have to tell James the truth. That something had shifted. That she had shifted. And that maybe — just maybe — she no longer fit the life that he now controlled. Not because she was broken. But because something more honest had begun to take root. And once you've tasted that kind of truth, you can't go back to pretending.

After purchasing the dress Verena made her way back to the hotel suite. She had picked up and quick bite to eat, she needed something in her stomach for she got ready for the evening event. Once she finished eating she slowly began to get ready.

Verena stepped out of the bathroom with steam curling behind her like mist in the wake of something new. The room was quiet, still holding the energy of the day and the promise of the night. On the bed, the emerald dress waited like a secret she was finally ready to share.

She moved to the vanity, a towel wrapped loosely around her, skin warm and flushed from the shower. With careful, practiced fingers, she opened her makeup bag. Not the full arsenal — not tonight. Tonight wasn't about armor.

She chose softness.

A dewy foundation that let her freckles peek through. Just a touch of peach on her cheeks, like a whisper of sunlight. Her brows were brushed up, full and natural, nothing sculpted. On her eyes, she swept a pale shimmer across the lids — not glitter, not drama, just light — and pressed a muted taupe into the crease, just enough to create dimension. No wing, no bold liner. Only a soft brown pencil along her lash line, smudged with her fingertip to blur the edge. Her lashes were touched with mascara, just one coat, for depth without flash. And on her lips — a rosewood balm, tinted just enough to draw attention, but not to steal it.

When she stepped into the dress — the deep emerald catching the fading light — she let her hair down in loose waves, still damp at the ends, falling around her shoulders with unstudied ease.

She looked in the mirror. There was no mask. No façade. Only Verena. Composed. Quietly radiant. Certain, even in her uncertainty.
 
AJ wrapped up with the panel in the early afternoon, though "wrapped up" might have been too neat a phrase for what had actually taken place. What was meant to be a structured, hour-long discussion had quickly spiraled into something far more combustible. The conversation had grown animated, at times heated, as panelists challenged each other on everything from creative ethics to industry gatekeeping. Audience participation had only added fuel to the fire. Questions turned into passionate monologues, and even the moderator had at one point surrendered to the current of debate. It was the kind of session people would be talking about long after the gala ended, and AJ had the sinking suspicion that half the room had recorded parts of it on their phones.

Lunch hadn't been part of the schedule, but someone had called it in out of necessity. No one was going anywhere until the energy had burned out naturally. By the time the last argument had been made, the last slice of lukewarm pizza eaten, and the final handshake exchanged, it was already creeping into the later hours of the day. The sky outside had taken on that soft golden hue that hinted at dusk. AJ, exhausted but still buzzing from the adrenaline of the discussion, made his way back to the hotel. The gala loomed ahead now, less as a chore and more as the inevitable next act of an already full day.

As he stepped into the lobby and made his way to the elevator, he allowed his thoughts to drift to Verena. They had split up earlier that morning - he to the panel, she to embark on what she half-jokingly called a mission: to find a dress that felt right. She had been cagey about what exactly she was looking for. "Not safe," she'd told him. "Not boring." AJ had smiled at that. Whatever she chose, he had no doubt it would be anything but boring. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what she'd settled on. Verena had a way of inhabiting clothes like they were born from her, not the other way around. There was an effortless glamour to her, even on her worst days. But this evening, for an event like this—he was curious. Maybe even a little anxious to see what she would walk out in.

He didn't have to wait long.

The moment he pushed open the door to their suite, her image greeted him. She stood in front of the full-length mirror in the main room, her silhouette framed in the muted natural light filtering in from the windows. The dress - the dress - stopped him in his tracks. There were no words, not immediately. Not because he didn't have any, but because language suddenly seemed inadequate. The way it clung to her curves without clinging too tightly, the way it moved with her rather than against her - it wasn't just a good dress. It was right. It didn't scream for attention, didn't beg for validation. It simply existed in perfect harmony with her, amplifying everything he already loved about the way she carried herself.

"Wow."

The word slipped from his mouth before he could filter it, and he wasn't even sure if she'd heard it. It wasn't for her, really. It was for himself. A whispered prayer of appreciation. He walked across the room and came to stand behind her, catching their shared reflection in the mirror. His hand settled on her hip, not in possession but in quiet reverence, as if the gesture might keep him grounded. There was a pull, primal and undeniable, but he reined it in. There would be time for that later. Tonight had other demands.

"I'll be as quick as I can," he said, before stepping away.

He disappeared into the bathroom, where the contrast of fluorescent light and cold tile jolted him back into motion. He shaved with practiced efficiency, letting muscle memory do most of the work. The water from the shower was hot and bracing, enough to wash away the afternoon's tension. Steam fogged the mirror, and by the time he emerged with a towel slung around his waist, the day had been reset. He dried off, dressed, and finally reached for the garment bag he'd packed days ago in anticipation.

Inside was his tuxedo - classic in its construction, understated but sharp. A crisp white shirt, a satin lapel, polished black shoes, and a bowtie. No flash, no flamboyance. Just quiet elegance. He liked it that way. It let him stand in contrast to the noise of a room, not compete with it. Tonight wasn't about showing off. It was about presence.

When he stepped back into the main room, fully dressed and adjusting his cufflinks, he saw her still at the mirror. She hadn't moved much, still assessing herself, or maybe just enjoying the rare feeling of knowing she had nailed it. He allowed himself one more glance - lingering, deliberate - before checking the time.

They were going to be late if they didn't leave soon. But for once, he didn't care.​
 
Verena turned a bit slowly when she heard the door open, her posture instinctively elongating, chin tilting ever so slightly, breath pausing as she waited to see his reaction—not because she needed approval, but because his opinion always landed differently. He wasn't a man of empty compliments. If he said something, it meant something.

Then she heard it—"Wow."

Just one word. But it pulled a warmth into her chest that she hadn't expected. It was soft. Unfiltered. And real. A smile crept to her lips, faint and private, like it was meant for no one else. She didn't turn around yet. She liked the way his presence filled the room slowly, deliberately, like water climbing the sides of a glass.

His hand at her hip made her exhale—quiet and almost imperceptible—but her body leaned into it, even just a little. It wasn't possessive. It was grounding. He sees me, she thought. Not just the dress. Not the makeup. Me.

And when he slipped away toward the bathroom, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

She turned back to the mirror, adjusting the earring dangling from her left lobe, and caught her own gaze. There was something there she hadn't seen in a while. Not confidence exactly—but stillness. A sense that, maybe, for once, everything didn't have to be so tightly held together.

A few minutes passed. Then she heard him again. When AJ emerged, fully dressed, adjusting his cufflinks with the quiet self-assuredness that always lived in the space just behind his words, her breath caught this time. She turned fully now. No more mirror between them. Her gaze traveled from his polished shoes up the pressed line of his trousers, the perfect cut of the tuxedo jacket, the bowtie that somehow made him look more like himself, not less. But it wasn't just the suit. It was him in it. His posture. The way he moved like he had nothing to prove, yet still somehow turned gravity itself in his direction.

“Nice.” she said under her breath. Verena tried to play it off with a small smile, stepping toward him slowly, deliberately, as if trying to test whether the moment between them was actually real. "Again you clean up dangerously well," she said, stopping just in front of him, her eyes lingering at his collar before meeting his.

Then her voice dipped lower, more intimate.
"If you weren't already sharing a hotel with me, I'd be trying to figure out how to make you leave with me tonight." She teased with a soft chuckle.

There was a beat between them. Electricity without noise. He hadn't even touched her again, but her skin already felt the memory of his hand on her hip.

They really should leave. The gala was waiting. But in that moment, with his scent still fresh from the shower, the crisp edge of his tuxedo brushing against the air between them, and the way his eyes looked at her—not at the dress, not at the polish, but through it all—Verena could think of a hundred reasons not to rush.

Still, she reached for her clutch and spoke softly as she passed him. “Let’s get going.”

The hotel lobby was quiet, dimly lit in warm golds and soft shadows, the kind of curated ambiance meant to hush the world rather than greet it. AJ and Verena stepped into the elevator without speaking, the silence between them comfortable now—thick with mutual awareness, like the hum beneath a favorite song.

She stood beside him, their hands brushing briefly, the spark of contact small but electric. Her perfume clung to the air between them—something subtle and citrus-laced, sharp at the edges and soft at the heart.

The elevator chimed softly at the lobby floor, and when the doors slid open, a black car was already waiting outside the hotel's private entrance. The driver stepped out, a polished professional in a dark suit and hat, and opened the door with an air of discreet efficiency. Verena slid into the backseat of the sleek black sedan, her dress whispering over the leather upholstery as she moved. She crossed her legs carefully, placing her clutch in her lap, and looked out the window for a moment—just long enough to collect her thoughts. AJ followed, settling in beside her with an effortless grace that didn't require theatrics.

The door clicked shut.

City lights poured through the windows in slanted lines, casting fleeting patterns across their faces as the car pulled away. The interior was quiet, muffled from the outside world. Verena glanced sideways at him.

"You okay?" she asked, voice low, not because she expected trouble—but because it felt like the kind of question she hadn't asked enough. She knew that he was ok though. The day had been such a big deal for him. She figured he was feeling good.

She glanced down at his hands and gently took it with her. Her eyes stayed on their hands, her thumb gently moved over the top of his so instinctively. It was the kind of intimacy you don't realize you're missing until it's right in front of you.

The car slowed as they neared the gala venue—a grand, historic museum now lit like a stage set. The steps were lined with torches and flower arrangements, guests already beginning to flow through the grand entrance, all glitter and anticipation.

Verena took one last glance at AJ, adjusting the collar of his tux lightly with her free hand. "Let's get in there.” She smiled softly at him before opening the door to exit the car.
 
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