Chapter 1 - Summer Nights & City Lights
The sun slowly dipped behind the imposing façades of Regent Street, bathing the city in golden light. London was at her most beautiful — sultry, vibrant, effortless. As if even the famous British rain had decided to take a break for this perfect summer weekend.
Ally let her gaze drift across the rooftop terrace as she held her glass of rosé up to the light.
“I swear, Em. If I ever disappear, check rooftops like this first,” she said with a crooked smile.
Emma laughed and took a sip of her cocktail.
“You mean: stylish drinks, attractive people, and a city view? Yes, that does sound like your natural habitat.”
They were sitting on the rooftop of Aurum, one of London’s trendiest restaurants, right in the heart of Regent Street. The terrace was sleekly designed, with warm lighting, elegant seating, and a DJ spinning a relaxed set — loud enough to create atmosphere, soft enough to allow conversation.
Ally wore a simple white linen jumpsuit and gold earrings that jingled just a little too loudly whenever she laughed — which happened surprisingly often that evening. She felt free, light. The energy of the city was contagious, like champagne bubbles beneath her skin. And a weekend away with her sister — it couldn’t be more perfect.
“Shall we go dance?” Emma asked, already half out of her chair.
“You go ahead. I’ll grab another drink — want anything?” Ally replied, rising with her glass still in hand. Emma shook her head, signaling she was fine. As Ally turned toward the bar, she nearly bumped into someone.
“Sorry!” she said automatically, tightening her grip on her glass.
“That was my fault,” came a warm voice.
She looked up — and felt her heart skip.
In front of her stood a man with dark, medium-length hair slicked back, a jawline that worked dangerously well in the soft evening light, and eyes that immediately caught hers. Dark. Intense. Curious.
“Let me guess,” he said. “French? Italian?”
“What?” Ally asked, still slightly disoriented by the sudden pull between them.
“Your accent. Not British — so I’m guessing Southern Europe.”
She laughed softly. “Dutch. But I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He smiled. “It was.”
She stood there, the sun setting behind him, the city below them beginning to sparkle, with absolutely no idea what to say next. That almost never happened to her.
“I’m Zack,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Ally.” Her fingers closed around his — firm, warm, effortless.
They started talking. At first, just small talk — the city, her trip with her sister, his love for London. But gradually, the rhythm shifted. He told her he was a doctor; she told him she was a fashion stylist — though she quickly added that she was here mainly to not work for once. They laughed about bad dates, shared embarrassing travel stories, and before they knew it, Emma came over to check where Ally had disappeared to.
“And you are?” Emma asked, giving Ally a knowing look.
“Zack,” he said easily. “I’m trying to convince your sister that London is better than Amsterdam.”
“Good luck with that,” Emma replied dryly. “But I’ll give you points for charm.”
The evening drifted by like a warm summer breeze. When they finally said goodbye — much later than planned — the sky was a deep purple, heavy with promise.
“I’d like to see you again,” Zack said softly as he took her phone to type in his number.
“Maybe on another rooftop,” Ally joked, her heart pounding wildly.
“Or,” he said with a smile, “somewhere we’re allowed to bump into each other a little longer.”
They laughed. And then, before she could overthink it, she leaned in slightly. And he leaned toward her. A brief brush of their lips — nothing more than a promise.
But enough to set something in motion inside Ally that could no longer be stopped.
