Sofia Williams had three rules for surviving adulthood.
Never make promises you couldn't keep.
Never allow anyone to mistake your kindness for weakness.
And, most importantly, never let a man distract you from building the life you wanted.
The third rule had become particularly important over the past two years.
At twenty-four, Sofia had enough responsibilities to fill three people's schedules. As the chief executive officer and creative director of Williams Fashion House, she managed a growing fashion business, supervised designers, approved collections, attended meetings, and dealt with clients who sometimes believed that paying for an outfit gave them the right to dictate her entire creative process.
Romance was the last thing she needed.
Unfortunately, life had a habit of laughing at carefully organised plans.
"Sofia!"
She didn't look up from the collection of sketches spread across her office desk.
"Unless the building is on fire, give me five minutes."
"The building isn't on fire," her assistant replied from the doorway. "But your mother has called three times, your father has called twice, and your best friend is threatening to come here personally."
Sofia slowly raised her head.
"Amara is threatening to come here?"
"Those were her exact words."
"Did she say why?"
"No. She only said that if you ignored her again, she would expose your secrets."
Sofia sighed.
"That woman has known me for too long."
Her assistant, Grace, smiled. "Would you like me to tell her you're busy?"
"Tell her I'm dead."
"I already tried that yesterday. She asked what time the funeral was."
Sofia stared at her.
Grace shrugged. "I thought it was funny."
Despite herself, Sofia laughed.
"Fine. Send her a message that I'll call her during lunch."
"And your parents?"
Sofia glanced at the clock on the wall.
"Tell them I'll call after this meeting."
Grace nodded and disappeared.
Sofia returned her attention to the sketches.
The designs belonged to the autumn collection her team had been developing for weeks. She ran her fingers over one of the pages, examining the lines of a tailored jacket and the delicate embroidery along its sleeves.
This was what she loved.
Taking an idea from her imagination and turning it into something real.
Her parents had built Williams Fashion House from a modest tailoring business into a respected fashion brand. They had spent decades establishing its reputation, working through difficult seasons, and earning the loyalty of customers who trusted their craftsmanship.
When they decided to entrust the company's leadership to Sofia, she understood what they were giving her.
It wasn't simply a business.
It was their life's work.
And she intended to make them proud.
Her phone vibrated against the desk.
AMARA JAMES.
Sofia closed her eyes.
"Not now."
The phone stopped ringing.
Three seconds later, it rang again.
Sofia snatched it up.
"What?"
"Good afternoon to you too, Your Majesty."
"I'm working."
"Of course you are. You were born working. I wouldn't be surprised if you negotiated your first business contract before learning to walk."
"What do you want, Amara?"
"First, I want you to stop speaking to me as if I'm one of your employees."
"Then stop calling during office hours."
"Wonderful. Now that we've established our mutual disrespect, I have something important to tell you."
Sofia leaned back in her chair.
"I'm listening."
"Do you remember Westbridge Academy?"
Sofia's expression changed slightly.
"Obviously."
"Do you remember our graduating class?"
"Unfortunately."
"Do you remember the promise you made during our final week?"
Sofia frowned.
"Which one?"
"The one where you declared that you would rather spend the rest of your life talking to a wall than ever voluntarily speak to Daniel Carter again."
Sofia went completely still.
For a moment, she heard nothing but the quiet hum of the air conditioner above her desk.
Then she said, very carefully, "Why are you bringing up Daniel Carter?"
Amara made a sound that was suspiciously close to laughter.
"Oh, this is going to be good."
"Amara."
"There's a school reunion."
Sofia stared at the phone.
"What?"
"A reunion. Our former school is organising an alumni gathering. Apparently, the school has been renovated, some of our old teachers are retiring, and the alumni association wants former students to come back for a celebration."
"And?"
"And the invitations have been sent out."
Sofia glanced at her computer.
"Congratulations to them."
"Sofia!"
"What?"
"You're missing the important part."
"Which is?"
"Daniel Carter has been invited too."
Sofia dropped her pen.
It landed on the floor.
For several seconds, she simply stared at the desk as if Amara had just announced that the building was being invaded by aliens.
Then she picked up the pen.
"And?"
"And nothing. I thought you'd find it interesting."
"I don't."
"You haven't even asked when the reunion is."
"I don't care when it is."
"Saturday evening."
"I'm busy."
"Of course you are."
"I have work."
"You have work every day."
"That's generally how running a company works."
Amara sighed dramatically.
"Fine. Don't come. Stay in your office, marry your fashion sketches, and name your first child after a sewing machine."
Sofia rubbed her forehead.
"Are you finished?"
"Not remotely. But I'll let you return to your very exciting relationship with your fabric samples."
The call ended.
Sofia placed her phone on the desk.
Then she picked it up again.
She opened her messages and typed.
Sofia: I am not going to that reunion.
Amara replied almost immediately.
Amara: I know.
Sofia: Then why are you trying to convince me?
Amara: Because I enjoy watching you pretend you don't care about things you very obviously care about.
Sofia rolled her eyes and tossed the phone onto the desk.
She didn't care about Daniel Carter.
She hadn't cared about him in years.
And if the universe had any sense of decency, it would keep him far away from her carefully organised life.
---
By six that evening, Sofia had managed to review the autumn collection, approve two supplier payments, reject a proposed advertising campaign, and reschedule a meeting with an important client.
She had also thought about Daniel Carter exactly seven times.
Which was six times too many.
She hated that she could still remember his full name without effort.
Daniel Alexander Carter.
Even his name sounded annoyingly confident.
They had attended Westbridge Academy together for years, and from the moment they entered the same academic class, their relationship had been a disaster.
Daniel was intelligent.
Unfortunately, he knew it.
He was competitive.
Unfortunately, he enjoyed making sure everyone else knew it too.
And he possessed an almost supernatural ability to say precisely the wrong thing at precisely the wrong moment.
Sofia had never been the sort of girl who allowed people to intimidate her. She worked hard, took her studies seriously, and expected to be judged by her abilities rather than her appearance or family background.
Daniel had challenged everything about her.
If she topped an examination, he wanted to know her score.
If he won a debate, she found a reason to challenge his argument.
If she received recognition from a teacher, he would casually mention an achievement of his own.
They had turned ordinary school activities into personal competitions.
Their classmates had found the entire situation entertaining.
Sofia had not.
The final straw had come during their last year at school, when an incident involving a major academic competition had convinced her that Daniel cared more about winning than about her feelings.
She remembered the embarrassment.
She remembered the anger.
Most of all, she remembered the look on his face when she told him she never wanted to speak to him again.
He hadn't apologised in the way she had expected.
Instead, he had said something that made everything worse.
She pushed the memory aside.
Whatever had happened back then belonged to another version of herself.
That girl had graduated, attended university, built a career, and become a woman who had no interest in reopening old wounds.
Daniel Carter was part of her past.
He could stay there.
---
At seven fifteen, Sofia arrived at her parents' home for dinner.
Her mother, Eleanor Williams, was arranging flowers in a vase in the living room when Sofia entered. Her father, Richard, sat nearby with a newspaper and a pair of reading glasses balanced on his nose.
"There she is," Eleanor said warmly. "Our busiest daughter."
"Our only daughter," Richard corrected without looking up.
"Which makes her particularly difficult to replace."
Sofia kissed her mother's cheek before dropping onto the sofa.
"I heard you've been trying to reach me."
"Twice," her mother replied.
"Three times," her father corrected.
Sofia looked between them.
"Have you both formed a committee to monitor my phone?"
"No," Eleanor said. "But we are considering it."
Richard folded his newspaper.
"Your mother says you haven't been sleeping properly."
Sofia groaned.
"Mum."
"You look tired."
"I run a company."
"And I raised a daughter," Eleanor replied. "I know what you look like when you're tired."
Sofia gave up.
"Fine. I'll try to sleep earlier."
"Good." Her mother smiled. "Now, have you heard about the reunion?"
Sofia slowly turned her head.
"Why does everyone know about this reunion except me?"
"Amara called me," Eleanor explained. "She mentioned that you were considering attending."
"She lied."
Richard raised an eyebrow.
"Why wouldn't you attend? It might be nice to see your old classmates."
"Some of them, yes."
"And the others?"
Sofia stared at him.
Her father smiled.
"Ah. Daniel."
She groaned and covered her face with both hands.
"Is there a national announcement I'm unaware of? Has my hatred of Daniel Carter become public knowledge?"
Her mother laughed.
"Darling, you were very vocal about it in school."
"I was seventeen."
"Seventeen-year-olds are often very vocal," Richard observed.
"Thank you, Dad. Your wisdom has changed my life."
"You're welcome."
Eleanor sat beside her.
"Listen, sweetheart. You don't have to attend if you don't want to. But don't allow an old disagreement to make decisions for you forever."
Sofia lowered her hands.
"It's not about making decisions for me."
"Then what is it about?"
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the truth was more complicated than she wanted to admit.
She wasn't afraid of seeing Daniel.
She was annoyed by the thought of seeing him.
There was a difference.
At least, that was what she told herself.
"I just don't see the point," she said eventually. "We've all moved on. Everyone has their own lives now."
"Exactly," Richard replied. "Which means you can see him as an adult rather than as the boy you remember."
Sofia looked at her father.
"Are you suggesting I should go because he might have changed?"
"I'm suggesting you should go because you might have changed too."
She hated how reasonable that sounded.
Her mother squeezed her hand.
"You don't owe anyone a conversation, Sofia. But you also don't have to spend the rest of your life avoiding a room simply because someone from your past might be in it."
Sofia looked away.
The worst part was that both her parents were right.
And she absolutely hated it when that happened.
---
On Friday morning, the invitation finally arrived.
A cream-coloured envelope sat on the reception desk at Williams Fashion House, delivered alongside the day's business correspondence.
Grace brought it into Sofia's office just before nine.
"This one looks important."
Sofia glanced at the envelope.
Her name was written across the front in elegant black lettering.
MISS SOFIA WILLIAMS.
She opened it.
Inside was a formal invitation to the Westbridge Academy Alumni Reunion, scheduled for Saturday evening at the school's newly renovated event centre.
There would be dinner, speeches, photographs, and an opportunity to reconnect with former classmates and teachers.
Sofia read the invitation twice.
Then she placed it on her desk.
"No."
Grace blinked.
"Sorry?"
"Nothing. I'm talking to myself."
"Should I put it with the other invitations?"
Sofia considered throwing it into the wastebasket.
Instead, she slipped it into the drawer.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.
Problem solved.
At least, that was the plan.
---
That evening, Sofia stood before the mirror in her bedroom, examining a deep blue dress she had designed herself.
She had no intention of attending the reunion.
Absolutely none.
But the dress was beautiful, and she had been considering wearing it to an upcoming fashion event.
She turned slightly, studying the stitching along the waist.
Her phone rang.
Amara.
Sofia answered without looking away from the mirror.
"If you're calling about the reunion, the answer is no."
"That's unfortunate."
"Why?"
"Because I've already booked my dress appointment for tomorrow."
Sofia frowned.
"Your what?"
"My dress appointment. We're going shopping tomorrow morning, and then we're attending the reunion together."
"We are not."
"We are."
"Amara, I have work."
"It's Saturday."
"I can work on Saturday."
"You can also take one evening off without the world collapsing."
Sofia opened her mouth to argue.
Amara continued before she could speak.
"Besides, I have already told everyone you're coming."
Sofia's jaw dropped.
"You did what?"
"I said you would probably come."
"Amara!"
"Fine. I told them you were coming."
Sofia sat on the edge of her bed.
"You are an absolute menace."
"I prefer the term devoted friend."
"You need professional help."
"Probably. But first, I need you to answer one question."
"No."
"Have you ever wondered what Daniel looks like now?"
Sofia's heart gave an irritating little jump.
She immediately frowned at herself.
"No."
"Not even a little?"
"Not at all."
"Interesting."
"What is?"
"Because Michael says Daniel has become ridiculously handsome."
Sofia went silent.
Then she laughed.
A short, dismissive laugh.
"Daniel Carter could be named the most handsome man in the world, and I would still find him irritating."
Amara hummed thoughtfully.
"That's a very specific answer."
"It's the correct answer."
"Of course."
"And I am not going to the reunion."
"All right."
Sofia narrowed her eyes at the phone.
"Why do I feel like you aren't listening?"
"Because you know me so well."
The call ended.
Sofia lowered the phone.
For a long moment, she stared at her reflection.
Then she glanced at the blue dress hanging beside her wardrobe.
She imagined walking into the reunion hall, greeting her former classmates, and spending an evening pretending that the past no longer mattered.
It shouldn't have been difficult.
She was twenty-four now.
Daniel was twenty-six.
They were adults with careers, responsibilities, and lives that had moved far beyond the walls of Westbridge Academy.
He was probably busy running his family's shipping company.
She was busy building her fashion empire.
Their paths had no reason to cross again.
And even if they did, it would mean nothing.
Nothing at all.
Sofia stood, removed the blue dress from its hanger, and placed it carefully inside her wardrobe.
Then she switched off the bedroom light.
She had made her decision.
She wasn't going to the reunion.
Not for Amara.
Not for her parents.
And certainly not for Daniel Carter.
But somewhere across the city, in a spacious office overlooking a busy harbour, a man named Daniel Carter was opening an almost identical cream-coloured envelope.
He read the invitation.
A faint smile touched his lips when he reached the list of confirmed alumni.
Then he saw a familiar name.
SOFIA WILLIAMS.
Daniel leaned back in his chair.
For several seconds, he simply stared at it.
Then he laughed under his breath.
"Sofia Williams."
He hadn't spoken to her in years.
He hadn't seen her in longer.
And yet, he could still remember the exact expression she wore whenever he managed to irritate her.
The narrowed eyes.
The tight lips.
The look that suggested she was mentally calculating how many ways she could make his life miserable.
His smile widened.
"Well," he murmured, placing the invitation on his desk. "This might actually be interesting."
His assistant appeared at the door.
"Sir, the meeting with the European shipping partners has been moved to Monday morning."
"Fine."
"And will you be attending the Westbridge reunion tomorrow evening?"
Daniel looked at the invitation again.
He could already imagine Sofia pretending not to care that he was there.
He could imagine her delivering one of her sharp remarks and walking away as though she had won something.
He could imagine himself laughing.
Because if there was one thing Daniel Carter had learned over the years, it was that some rivalries never truly disappeared.
They simply waited for the right moment to return.
"Yes," he said.
His assistant nodded.
"Shall I have the driver prepare the car?"
"Please."
The assistant left.
Daniel picked up the invitation once more, his eyes resting on Sofia's name.
He wondered what she was doing now.
Whether she still argued with people who disagreed with her.
Whether she still wore that determined expression whenever she was trying to prove a point.
Whether she still hated him.
His smile faded into something more thoughtful.
Then he shook his head.
It didn't matter.
He had a company to run, contracts to negotiate, and an entire weekend of work waiting for him.
Sofia Williams was a memory.
An irritating one, admittedly.
But a memory all the same.
Tomorrow evening, they would see each other again.
They would exchange a few words, perhaps argue for old times' sake, and return to their separate lives.
Simple.
Predictable.
Nothing could possibly go wrong.
After all, Sofia Williams had never been his type either.
And Daniel had absolutely no intention of discovering otherwise.
Neither of them knew that one reunion would challenge everything they believed about each other.
Neither of them knew that the past they had left behind was about to become the beginning of something neither had planned.
And neither of them was prepared for what would happen when they finally stood in the same room again.