The phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Alexander glanced at the clock — 12:43 AM.

He sighed quietly, already halfway between sleep and wakefulness, but when he saw her name flash across the screen, his heart gave a small, familiar ache.

He answered immediately.

“Hey… you okay?”

His voice was low, calm — that soft-spoken tone that always carried a quiet authority.

Through the phone, music thumped in the background, laughter echoing. Then her voice — slow, slurred, fragile.

“Alex… I– I think I drank too much. Everyone’s still dancing, but I… I just want to go home.”

He was already standing, pulling on a jacket.

“Where are you?”

She mumbled the name of the club, a little giggle slipping out before she sighed.

“You’re gonna be mad at me, huh?”

He exhaled softly, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.

“No, sweetheart. Just stay where you are. Don’t move. I’m coming.”

The drive took twenty minutes, though it felt longer. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly — not from anger, but worry.

He’d told her earlier to call him if she needed anything. She actually had. That meant something.

When he arrived, the street was glowing with neon lights and noise.

He spotted her almost instantly — sitting on the curb, legs crossed, her hair slightly messy, her phone glowing dimly in her hand.