Pamela stepped into her small apartment, her heart still
racing from the evening at the gallery. The vibrant streets of Paris echoed in
her mind, but it was Alexander's captivating smile that lingered most vividly.
She felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach, a sensation she hadn't
experienced in years.
As she unpacked her bag, she replayed their conversation
over and over, warmth spreading through her. How had they connected so
effortlessly? The way he listened, the spark in his eyes when he spoke—it all
felt surreal. But then a wave of disappointment washed over her. She had been
so caught up in the moment that she forgot to ask for his phone number. What if
he didn't reach out? The thought sent a pang of regret through her.
Meanwhile, Alexander walked into his spacious loft, his mind
a whirlpool of thoughts about Pamela. He had been so engrossed in their
conversation that he completely forgot to ask for her number. Frustration
gnawed at him as he tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. How could he have
let such a moment slip away?
Just then, the door swung open, and in walked his mother,
accompanied by Victoria, his ex-girlfriend. The sight of them together sent a
wave of irritation crashing over him. Victoria, with her perfectly styled hair
and confident demeanor, was everything he had tried to move away from.
"Alexander! You're home!" his mother exclaimed, her voice
bright. "We were just discussing some art exhibits. Victoria has some wonderful
ideas."
"Great," he muttered, forcing a smile. His heart raced—not
from excitement but from a mix of anger and confusion. Why was Victoria here?
Hadn't he made it clear that they were done?
"Hey, fancy seeing you again!" Victoria said, her tone
dripping with false sweetness. "I was just telling your mom how much I miss our
gallery nights."
"Yeah, well, things change," Alexander replied tersely, his
hands clenching into fists. He felt trapped between his past and the glimmer of
something new with Pamela.
His mother continued chatting, oblivious to the tension. "We
were just about to head out for dinner. Come with us, Alexander. It'll be fun!"
"Thanks, but I'm not really in the mood," he said, his voice
flat. He needed space to think, to process his feelings for Pamela amidst the
chaos of Victoria's presence.
As they left, Alexander stood by the window, watching them
walk away. The Paris skyline glimmered in the distance, but his heart was heavy
with frustration. He couldn't shake the thought of Pamela and their connection.
He needed to find a way to reach out to her, to rekindle that spark before it
faded.
The night stretched before him, and he felt a longing for
the warmth of their conversation. He grabbed his phone, determined to send a
message, but the words felt like they were caught in his throat. Would she even
want to hear from him again?
Meanwhile, Pamela sat on her couch, staring at her phone,
wishing she had taken his number. The thought of not seeing Alexander again
felt unbearable. She picked up her phone, scrolling through her contacts,
hoping for a miracle. But reality set in—she had no way to reach him.