The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a girl who looked like she had stepped straight out of an aesthetic dream.

Aira stepped onto the 25th floor of Aurora Corp., clutching her sketchbook tightly to her chest. Her long, silky hair—blushing with a soft pink ombre—flowed behind her like a whisper. Dressed in a delicate floral dress she had designed herself, with puffed sleeves and a bow at the chest, she looked out of place among the sleek gray walls and brisk employees.

But Aira didn’t care.

This internship meant everything to her.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the digital nameplate: “Rayan Lee, CEO.”

Her heart skipped.

Not just because she was about to meet the youngest CEO in the country—a 20-year-old legend known for turning Aurora Corp. into a fashion-tech empire overnight. But because… ever since she saw a photo of him in a magazine, with his sharp jawline and calm, unreadable eyes, she’d been curious. And a little captivated.

She knocked gently.

“Come in,” said a low voice.

Aira stepped into the sleek, sunlit office. And there he was—Rayan Lee—in a navy suit, his dark, tousled hair perfectly imperfect. He looked up from his laptop and froze for a second longer than necessary.

Her hair caught the sunlight like a watercolor painting, and her eyes sparkled with quiet determination. He noticed the soft blush on her cheeks. She wasn’t just cute. She was… beautiful in a way he didn’t expect.

“Miss Aira?” he asked, standing.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice soft but clear. “Intern, first day.”

He extended a hand, and she shook it. His hand was warm and steady. Hers trembled just a little.

“Let me show you around,” he said, suddenly overly conscious of his own heartbeat.

They walked through the corridors, him speaking about departments, deadlines, and dress codes—her nodding politely but taking in everything. The way he walked a little slower for her. The way his eyes sometimes flicked to her hair. The way his lips curved, ever so slightly, when she smiled at a comment.

“Your dress…” he said after a pause.

She looked at him, blinking.

“It’s pretty,” he continued, a little awkwardly. “Did you design it?”

Her face lit up with joy. “Yes! It’s from my spring series. I sketch at night sometimes.”

He didn’t say anything right away. But he noticed every rose in the print. Every gentle fold.

“You have a good eye,” he said softly.

She smiled—warm, genuine. The kind of smile that made his chest feel like it wasn’t his own.

They returned to the office. As she sat at her new desk, arranging her colored pens and moodboards, Rayan stole a glance at her through the glass walls.

She was humming a little song under her breath.

For a moment, he forgot about deadlines, investor calls, and the meeting he was already five minutes late for.

Aira had been working at Aurora Corp. for a week, and every day felt like a scene from one of her sketchbook daydreams—only better.

The office buzzed with creative energy, but the highlight of each day was always the same.

Rayan Lee.

She didn’t understand him fully yet. He was quiet, distant at times, but oddly gentle when he spoke to her. And although he rarely smiled, when he did—even just a hint—it made her cheeks warm in ways she wasn’t used to.

Today, though, he looked… stressed.

His sleeves were rolled up, tie loosened, eyes focused on the tablet in front of him. Aira, peeking into the glass-walled conference room, could see the tension in his jaw as he muttered something under his breath.

After a moment of hesitation, she stood, quietly walked to the office kitchen, and returned with a coffee—just how she’d noticed he liked it. No sugar. Two creams.

She knocked gently on the door.

He looked up. His expression softened immediately.

“You look like you could use a break,” she said shyly, holding out the cup.

He blinked. “You remembered how I take my coffee?”

Aira smiled, a little blush on her cheeks. “You remember everyone’s designs in the presentation room. I figured it was fair.”

He chuckled softly. It was the kind of laugh that made her want to hear it again and again.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the cup, their fingers grazing. A tiny shock passed between them. He felt it. She definitely felt it.

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

“Aira.”

She looked back.

“You’re different,” he said suddenly, not quite sure where the words were coming from. “You don’t act like this place is too big for you. Most interns walk around like they’re going to break something.”

She tilted her head, smile lingering. “Maybe because I dreamt of this place for so long, it already felt like home.”

That made something shift in him.

He stood, walked around the table, and leaned against the edge of the desk, looking at her closely.

“You really designed that dress?”

She nodded.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s delicate, but… strong. Like you.”

Aira’s breath hitched. The room felt warmer.

“I—I don’t know about strong,” she said. “I get nervous all the time.”

“But you still show up,” he said, voice low. “Every day. Confident. Smiling.”

She looked at him, something new flickering in her eyes.

“And you?” she asked. “You always seem so… calm. Even when the whole team is panicking.”

He looked down at his coffee. “I pretend.”

Her brows furrowed.

He gave a small, almost sad smile. “When you’re twenty and in charge of everything, you learn to wear confidence like a suit. But sometimes, I just… wish I could relax. Be seen. Not as the CEO. Just as me.”

Aira stepped closer. Her eyes, wide and honest, met his.

“Well…” she whispered, “if you ever want to be just Rayan, I’d be happy to meet him.”

For a moment, the world outside the glass walls disappeared.

Just her and him. Two people trying to be seen.

He didn’t answer right away, but something in his expression changed. Softer. Open.

“Aira…” he murmured.

But before he could say more, his phone buzzed with an incoming call.

He looked at the screen, hesitated, then declined it.

“I’d rather talk to you,” he said.

Aira’s heart fluttered like a petal caught in the wind.

This… this was the start of something.

She could feel it.

Rayan had never felt this unsure in his life. Numbers, business models, board meetings—he dominated them all. But this? Proposing a fake marriage to his intern?

He stood in the center of his office, one hand hidden in his pocket, the other gripping a draft of the contract he’d typed himself. The air smelled faintly of bergamot and tension. His gaze was fixed on Aira, who stood a few feet away, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“I need you to marry me,” he said.

Aira blinked. “You… what?”

“Not real marriage,” he said quickly, forcing calm into his voice. “Just a contract marriage. One year.”

She stared at him, stunned. “Why would you ask me that?”

Rayan hesitated.

Three days ago, he had overheard his parents talking in their garden, unaware he had arrived early for dinner.

“He’s going to be alone forever at this rate,” his mother sighed. “He’s always working.”

His father’s reply was quieter, firmer. “He’s a brilliant CEO. But investors are already whispering. They want stability. If he doesn’t show them he can settle down, they’ll doubt he’s mature enough to lead.”

Rayan had frozen at the doorway, the words striking deeper than he expected. He had everything—power, money, respect—but no one to share it with. No softness at the end of the day.

Later that night, he had opened Aira’s forgotten sketchbook in his office. Every page reflected warmth, ambition, and quiet elegance. She was passionate, bold, yet grounded. And most of all—she made the world feel… lighter.

That’s when he knew.

Back in the present, he stepped toward her.

“I chose you because I trust you, Aira. Because you're strong, and real. And I don’t want to fake this with anyone else.”

She crossed her arms, trying to hide how fast her heart was beating.

“So you want me to pretend to be your wife for the world? Live with you? Smile, pose, play house—like it’s nothing?”

“No. I want us to set boundaries, rules. You'll have your freedom. You can focus on your designs. You’ll be paid. And when the year ends, we part ways quietly.”

Her voice was small. “And if one of us starts to feel… different?”

He paused. The thought had haunted him.

“We deal with it. Together.”

Her chest rose and fell. “This could ruin everything.”

“Or it could help both of us,” he said, softer now.

She turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. The skyline stretched endlessly, just like the questions in her mind. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?

“What about your parents?” she asked. “Won’t they expect more than a show?”

“They’ll expect a daughter-in-law,” he said. “But I won’t pressure you. You’ll never have to act alone.”

She turned back to him, gaze sharp but unsure. “So what, we kiss for cameras? Hold hands for the press?”

He gave a slight smile. “Only when necessary.”

Her lips twitched despite herself.

“What about living together?”

“I’ll give you your own space. Full privacy. No surprises.”

She walked toward him slowly, arms still crossed.

“I design dresses,” she said quietly. “I don’t fake marriages.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Maybe you’ll design your wedding dress for the contract. Limited edition?”

She laughed despite herself. Then caught herself.

“I need to think.”

He nodded. “Take your time.”

But before she reached the door, she paused.

“Draw up the contract,” she said. “Doesn’t mean I’ll sign it. But… I’ll read it.”

His eyes lit up. “Thank you.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Rayan finally let himself breathe.