The car door shut softly behind him.
Lena stared, frozen. Her breath caught in her throat as Ethan Cross—clean-cut in tailored slacks, an expensive coat slung over one arm—started walking toward her like some phantom from a life she had left behind.
Her legs made the decision before her brain could.
She ran.
Not out of fear. Not even out of pride.
But because something primal kicked in—the instinct to flee the thing that had once broken her.
The world blurred as she sprinted through the muddy path near the orchard, her boots slipping in the damp earth. She didn't look back, though she could hear his footsteps gaining behind her.
"Lena!"
The sound of her name in his voice made her stumble harder.
She rounded the bend—her heart in overdrive—and lost her footing completely. The mud beneath her gave way, and she slipped, tumbling down the hill.
But so did he.
He caught her.
Or tried to.
They fell together, arms flailing, tangled in limbs and leaves. When they landed, it was with a squelch and a thud.
Mud everywhere. Her hair, his shirt, the soft wool of her cardigan.
She blinked up at the sky, breathless. Then she turned to him.
He looked ridiculous.
And also impossibly handsome.
She wanted to scream.
"Are you hurt?" she just asked.
He stood, brushing himself off uselessly, and extended a hand. She ignored it and stood on her own.
"I came to talk."
"Huh? What is it?"
He looked away, jaw tightening. "Chloe posted pictures."
"What about them?"
"I was curious."
Her heart pounded—out of anger, out of disbelief, out of something she didn't want to name.
"Let's get you cleaned up," she muttered, already trudging toward the house.
Inside, she handed him a towel and gestured toward the bathroom. He didn't say thank you. He didn't say anything. Just disappeared behind the door.
She used the other bathroom, tossing her muddy clothes into a bucket to soak. After freshening up, she went to the kitchen. Her hands trembled as she poured water for tea.
When he returned, his hair was damp, and he wore one of her late grandfather's old clothes. It fit, somehow. That irritated her.
They sat across from each other, the silence thick.
Finally, she asked, "What are you curious about?"
He looked at her directly. "This place."
Her lips twitched bitterly. "About the countryside? Planning to develop it?"
"It depends. I might buy the entire area."
She blinked.
Her throat tightened.
He was joking.
He had to be joking.
But there was no trace of amusement on his face.
She looked around at the walls that had comforted her. The windows that caught sunlight just right. The garden she had replanted with her own hands.
"I see," she said softly. "Then I guess I'll leave. Again."
His eyes flickered.
She stood to clear the table, but he said, "Wait."
He reached into his pocket.
"My phone's in the car. Let me borrow yours."
Too stunned to argue, she handed it to him.
She hadn't set a password.
He opened the screen—and something shifted in his gaze.
"You blocked me," he said.
She looked down.
"I didn't want to be a bother."
"A bother?"
"I knew I didn't belong in your world. I just… I wanted to make it easier. "
He stood suddenly, his voice rising. "And you thought running away without a word would help?"
She met his gaze, steady now.
"I fell in love with an illusion. With the idea of being wanted. I thought if I changed enough—smiled enough—maybe I could fit beside someone like you."
His voice dropped.
"And now?"
"Now, I know better."
The rain began suddenly, pounding on the roof in waves.
She motioned toward the hallway. "You can use the guest room tonight."
"I don't need—"
"Please. It's late."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
"I'll show you to your room."
He followed her down the hall in silence.
There was something strange in the way she moved—no longer timid, no longer desperate. She had grown roots in this place. She was no longer the girl who chased him through crowds with a borrowed smile.
And that scared him more than anything.
He left at dawn.
The sun barely touched the sky as his car disappeared down the lane.
She stood on the porch in her cardigan, arms wrapped around herself, wondering if it had all been a dream.
Then she turned and went inside.
Back to work.
Back to peace.
Back to herself.