Mismatched Clocks
POV's: Dan / Kate
POV: Dan (Then)
He noticed her wrist watch the first time they met a vintage Cartier, its glass cracked diagonally like a quiet scar. The hour hand lagged, stuck in a five-minute delay.
"Why didn't you fix it?" he asked once, brushing his thumb over the tarnished gold.
Kate had smiled, soft but distant. "Some things are better broken. That way, you don't expect them to work."
It haunted him like a syringe 💉.
She was like that wrist watch: elegant, fractured, constantly catching up.
Dan sat now at the edge of his penthouse bed, freshly showered, suit unbuttoned. The Manhattan skyline burned orange behind him. Still, her words echoed louder than the city ever could.
She had been slipping through his fingers, and he hated how it made him feel. He was supposed to be in control. But ever since she said "YES ♥️," he had become the one dancing to invisible strings.
The problem wasn't that he didn't care.
The problem was that he cared too much.
And Prestige... Well, Prestige was safe. Predictable. The kind of woman who looked good on covers and beside campaign headlines.
Kate, on the other hand, was a hurricane in a coffee cup.
He opened his laptop. One of the privileges of dating someone like Kate Monroe was the ease with which her calendar synced when you knew how to ask her assistant a few harmless questions.
He searched.
There. Thursday.
"Meeting: Vin / Midtown Gallery. 6PM."
Dan blinked.
Vin?
He didn't recognize the name. But the pang of heat in his chest wasn't confusing. It was a sharp jealousy , irrational, and immediate.
He should trust her.
But he didn't.
So he showed up. Neither inside nor yet. Just watched, from across the street, in a car tinted darker⬛ than his intentions.
She arrived wearing a navy coat with gold buttons. Her curls were tucked beneath a beret, and she walked like someone who knew she had people watching.
Vin was already there.
Male.
Tall. Thin. Artist type. The kind of guy who drank black coffee and talked about brushstrokes and jazz.
Dan's stomach twisted.
Kate leaned in and gently hugged Vin.
He gripped the wheel.
She laughed. Threw her head back. The sound didn't carry across traffic, but he could hear it anyway.
He typed one-handed into his burner phone:
To Prestige: "She's slipping."
A pause. Then:
Prestige: "Pull her back. Or I will."
POV: Kate (Then)
Her fingers hovered over the painting. An abstract canvas of blurred outlines, muted blues and bruised purples.
"She looks like me," Kate whispered.
Vin, beside her, tilted his head. "How so?"
"She's unfinished. A little lost."
"Or maybe," he said, handing her a plastic flute of prosecco, "she's still becoming."
Kate smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
She'd been different lately. Her friends noticed.
"You're glowing," Jasmine said last Sunday during brunch.
"Am I?"
"Either you've got a new man or a new skincare regimen."
Kate had brushed it off with a laugh(😅).
But she was glowing. Just not for the reasons they thought.
Dan had become a quiet rhythm in her days, a shadow at her doorstep, a whisper between tasks. They didn't go out publicly, but he made her feel visible in private.
He called her Shadowfire once after watching her twirl beneath moonlight in his living room. She pretended to hate the nickname, but kept hearing it in her head like a song only she knew the words to.
But sometimes, he disappeared for days.
And when she asked, he said work. Always work activities.
And Prestige? Still in love with her mystery man. Still leaving lipstick on coffee mugs, humming love songs🎧 in the shower.
Kate's heart twisted every time she saw her.
Then one night, Prestige came into their apartment, humming louder than usual.
"Guess what," she said, holding up a mini shopping bag with a gold ribbon. "He gave me something."
Kate glanced up from her magazine, every muscle tightening.
Prestige pulled out a sleek box. Popped it open.
Inside lay a watch.
A Cartier.
Cracked.
"He said he found it in a vintage shop. Said it reminded him of me. Classic with a story. Isn't that the most romantic thing ever?"
Kate dropped her glass.
It hit the carpet with a thud, no shatter.
"Careful," Prestige laughed, not noticing the color draining from her friend's face.
Kate swallowed. "Yeah. Romantic."
POV: Dan (Later)
Dan knew he was in deep when he started dreaming in colors that matched Kate's moods.
But he had already said YES💍 to Prestige's father's invitation.
Publicity. Power. Security.
He couldn't say NO. So he didn't.
He held Prestige's hand at the art fundraiser. Kissed💋 her in front of cameras.
But the whole time, he was watching the exit.
Because Kate hadn't shown up.
And she was supposed to.
He texted her three times.
No reply.
Prestige noticed. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," he lied, adjusting his cufflink. "Just work."
His phone vibrated.
Unknown Number:
"Ask Dan about the Cartier watch. Ask him who wore it first."
POV: Kate (Final Scene)
Kate stood in front of her mirror, holding two velvet boxes.
One from Dan.
One from Prestige.
Same watch.
Same lie.
Different notes.
Dan's box didn't have a note.
Prestige's did.
To my sunshine. You light up rooms I forgot how to enter.
Kate choked.
Her phone buzzed.
Prestige:
"Hey babe, funny thing. Dan just told me you were in a boring phase. You okay?"
Kate didn't reply.
She walked to her desk. Pulled out a file. Flipped to the last page.
There was a name scribbled in ink: Vincent Ellis.
Same surn
ame.
She stared at it, blood draining from her face.
What were the odds?
Vin. Ellis.
Dan. Ellis.
Kate closed the file slowly, heart pounding.
She whispered to herself.
"What the hell is going on?🥺"