Sebastian

Ever since you were a teenager, you've been fascinated by the idea of ​​becoming a lawyer. You studied the law at night, topping your class because your parents' money was spent only on booze and gambling. And then comes the day of the decision. The letter is in the mail. You read it, holding your breath, and your world crumbles: you're fifteen points short of your budget.

Two weeks have passed. To unwind, you go to the park, listening to your headphones, and before you know it, you're veering into a crime-ridden neighborhood. The sharp edge of your bag scrapes the black Bentley. Sebastian steps out—a man whose name makes your blood run cold, whose voice promises disaster. You don't see him and crash into his chest.

“Watch where you’re going,” he says venomously.

“And... I’m sorry,” the voice trembles.

"What are you doing here?" He suddenly notices the tears you've been hiding for two weeks. "Are you crying?"

"I didn't get in. I was fifteen points short," she blurts out weakly.

He's silent. He looks at me for a long time, with a heavy expression, and then the corner of his lips curls into a smile:

"People like you shouldn't worry about budgets. I'll pay. But first, coffee. Okay?" he asked in a soft voice, a warm glimmer in his dark eyes.