The café was empty.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows, dust motes dancing like memories in the stillness. I sat alone at a corner table, heart pacing faster than it had any right to.
I'd arrived ten minutes early.
Partly because punctuality was my armor, and partly because I didn't trust myself to show up if I hesitated a second longer.
The text still burned in my pocket.
One hour. No lies.
I clutched the mug of peppermint tea, the warmth barely cutting through the frost climbing my spine.
When the door opened, I didn't need to look up.
I felt him.
Killian's presence filled the space like thunder after lightning—delayed, but inevitable.
He wore black. Always did when he was serious. His hair was windswept, like he hadn't bothered to fix it, and the shadows under his eyes looked like they hadn't slept either.
He spotted me.
Walked over in slow, weighted steps.
I didn't stand.
Neither did I smile.
He slid into the seat across from me, eyes locked on mine.
"Elara."
I looked at the clock. "Fifty-eight minutes left."
A bitter smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You always did keep time like it owed you something."
I stayed silent.
He nodded, folding his hands on the table. "Okay. No games. No deflections. Just… the truth."
I raised an eyebrow.
He leaned back, staring out the window for a moment as if gathering the pieces of a shattered past.
Then he began.
"It started with a phone call. Two weeks before I left."
His voice was low, rough with memory.
"My father summoned me. Said it was urgent. That it was about… you."
My brows knit. "Me?"
Killian nodded. "He found out we were dating. That I was planning to propose after graduation."
My throat tightened. "What?"
"I had the ring, Elara. I kept it in my desk drawer. Was waiting for your birthday."
Tears burned behind my eyes before I could stop them.
But I blinked them away.
"What happened?"
He swallowed. "My father gave me a choice. Walk away from you—or watch him destroy your future."
I stared. "Destroy how?"
"He knew about your mother's medical bills. About the job offers you were praying for. He had contacts, Elara. Influence. He threatened to make sure every door stayed shut. That your scholarship mysteriously vanished. That your mom's hospital application got denied. And worse—he said he'd leak something to the press. Fabricate a scandal. Tie your name to mine in the messiest way possible."
My chest felt tight, like grief and rage were wrestling for space.
"So you just… left."
"I thought I was protecting you."
"No. You were making decisions for me."
"I was twenty-two and terrified. I didn't know how to fight him. I just knew I couldn't let you be collateral damage."
"And it didn't occur to you to talk to me?" I snapped.
"Let me decide if I wanted to run or fight with you?"
"I thought if I saw you again, I wouldn't be able to let go."
My hands curled into fists.
Silence hung between us, thick and choking.
Then I whispered, "You broke me."
"I know."
"And you let me believe it was because I wasn't enough."
He flinched like I'd slapped him. "You were everything. That was the problem. I would've burned the world down to keep you—but you deserved to build yours."
Tears slipped down my cheeks then, fast and angry.
"Do you know what it did to me? Watching you disappear without a word? Wondering what I did wrong? Checking my phone for weeks, thinking maybe you got hurt… or worse, that I was just forgettable?"
His voice cracked. "You were never forgettable."
"But you were a coward," I said softly.
He nodded once. "Yeah. I was."
I looked away, breath shaky.
Then I asked the question that had haunted me for years.
"Did you ever stop loving me?"
A beat passed.
"Not even for a second."
My heart twisted. Because I believed him.
And that made it worse.
He reached into his coat and pulled something out—small, velvet, familiar.
The ring box.
"I kept it," he said, setting it gently on the table. "All this time."
I stared at it like it might explode.
"I thought maybe… someday…"
"Killian," I whispered, throat raw. "You can't just waltz back into my life and expect time to fold like paper."
"I don't," he said. "But I needed you to know the truth. Even if it's too late."
My eyes met his.
"It is too late," I said.
But my voice didn't sound as certain as I wanted.
Because part of me—the part still stitched together with memories—ached.
Ached for what we lost.
Ached for what we could still be.
I stood.
"I need to go."
He nodded. Didn't try to stop me.
But as I turned to leave, he spoke.
"I never stopped believing in you, Elara. Even when I wasn't brave enough to stand beside you."
I paused.
Then walked out.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
His face.
His pain.
That damn ring box.
My mind ran circles until dawn bled through the windows.
I went into work early, hoping for distraction.
But life, as always, had other plans.
When the elevator opened on the executive floor, Jude was waiting, leaning casually against my office door with two coffees in hand.
He looked up and smiled.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite emotionally unavailable workaholic."
I tried to smile. Failed.
"Rough night?" he asked gently.
I nodded.
He handed me the coffee. "Come on. You're taking a break."
"I have emails—"
"Elara. Breathe."
Something in his voice made me stop.
We ended up on the rooftop terrace—quiet, sunlit, empty.
I wrapped my fingers around the cup, grateful for the warmth.
Jude looked at me. Really looked.
"You saw him."
I nodded.
"And?"
I didn't answer.
He sighed. "Do you still love him?"
My heart skipped.
Then: "Yes. And I hate that I do."
Jude didn't flinch. Didn't pout or protest.
He just nodded slowly.
"You know," he said after a long pause, "I once told myself that if I ever got the chance, I'd be the one to make you smile again."
My eyes widened.
"But," he continued, "I also told myself I wouldn't be the second choice."
"Jude—"
He held up a hand. "It's okay. I'm not asking for anything. Just… reminding you that you deserve someone who stays. Who fights. Who chooses you—loudly, boldly, and every single damn day."
Tears stung again.
"I don't know what I want anymore."
"You don't have to," he said, gently touching my arm. "Just know that you have options. And you have time."
He leaned in.
And for a split second, I thought he'd kiss me.
But he didn't.
Instead, he smiled. "Come find me when your heart stops whispering and starts speaking clearly."
Then he walked away.
Leaving me with a coffee cup, a thousand unanswered questions…
And a heart pulling in two directions