STORMS OF LOVE

When The Storms Meets The Spark

Most people passed through life quietly, leaving nothing behind.

Ethan Wilson wished he were one of them.

Instead, when he fell in love, it happened the way storms did—suddenly, violently, and without permission. Once it began, there was no escaping the damage.

That realization came later.

Right now, Ethan was late.

He sprinted down the narrow apartment hallway, sockless and half-awake, nearly tripping over a discarded backpack. His phone vibrated in his hand as he skidded into the kitchen and glanced at the clock.

8:00 a.m.

“Why am I always late?” he groaned.

The answer waited on the refrigerator door, held in place by a neon-pink magnet.

Had a test. Rushed out.

My GPA outranks your job. Wake yourself up next time :)

—Myra

Ethan crumpled the note with a sigh.

Work started at 8:20.

He was still barefoot.

He grabbed the first slice of bread he could find, pulled on a wrinkled shirt that smelled faintly of detergent and regret, and tossed a quick salute to his dog.

Randy didn’t move. He merely blinked, unbothered.

“Traitor,” Ethan muttered.

He bolted out the door—forgetting to lock it—and ran.

By the time he burst into the office, lungs burning and hair a mess, it was 8:30 a.m. exactly.

Ten minutes late.

And directly into his worst possible mistake.

Ruhan stood there, arms crossed, expression already thunderous.

“And how many times,” Ruhan demanded, voice echoing down the hall, “do I have to tell you to set your alarm before eight?”

Ethan froze, clutching his half-eaten toast like a shield. “I’m really sorry, I—”

“Don’t blame your sister. Or your dog. Or the stars,” Ruhan cut in. “You’re hanging by a thread, Ethan. One more screw-up, and I won’t be yelling. HR will.”

That hurt more than the volume.

“…Right,” Ethan said quietly. “No more snoozing.”

Ruhan exhaled sharply, frustration crackling beneath the surface. “Get to work.”

As he walked away, Ethan felt the weight settle in his chest.

Ruhan wasn’t just his boss. He was the reason Ethan had this job at all. The reason he’d survived when things at home had fallen apart. Brother in everything but blood.

And Ethan had disappointed him. Again.

Ruhan was only twenty-seven but already a manager—sharp, reliable, unshakable. The kind of man who never cracked under pressure.

Unless Ethan was the pressure.

“Fix it,” Ethan muttered to himself. “Before the storm turns catastrophic.”

Lost in his guilt, Ethan didn’t see the figure rounding the corner.

They collided hard.

“Seriously?” Ethan groaned, stumbling. “What kind of cursed day—”

A firm arm caught him around the waist.

For one suspended heartbeat, the world stopped.

Ethan opened his eyes.

And everything shifted.

The man holding him was a stranger—tall, composed, impossibly calm. His grip was steady, deliberate, lingering just long enough to feel intentional.