The clicking of my keyboard echoed softly through the small office space I rented downtown, the sound filling the silence like a clock ticking down. My coffee had gone cold hours ago, but I hadn't moved to change it. I was supposed to be working—finalizing the design proposals for a client who wanted everything by Monday morning—but my mind had drifted so many times I barely remembered what slide I was on.
I rubbed at my eyes and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Focus, Lyra. Just focus.
But it was pointless pretending. Even when I forced my attention onto the screen, the back of my mind pulled me somewhere else—toward him.
Kairo.
No matter how many days had passed, how much I buried myself in deadlines and meetings, he managed to wedge himself between the lines of my thoughts like an ink stain that refused to wash out. His voice when he called my name. His hand brushing against mine in the kitchen. The way his eyes lingered—calm, steady, like he always knew more than I did.
It was infuriating. And worse—it was addictive.
My phone buzzed on the desk, dragging me back. A message popped up in the group chat with Elijah.
'Don't forget family dinner this weekend, Lyra. Kairo's hosting. Don't be late.'
My stomach dropped at his name. I almost laughed at how ridiculous it was—grown woman, independent, working hard to build her own career—and yet my chest tightened like I was sixteen again being caught sneaking out.
Dinner. At Kairo's place.
I pressed the phone against my desk and exhaled, muttering into the empty room.
'Great. Just great.'
A knock at the door pulled me back. My assistant, May, peeked her head in, her short curls bouncing.
'Lyra, your client's here for the mock-up review. Do you want me to send them in?'
'Yes, please,' I said quickly, straightening my blouse and forcing my work face back on.
The meeting stretched for an hour. I smiled, explained the layouts, jotted down notes. But even as I nodded and spoke, my brain ran in two directions—the one that handled business, and the one that kept circling the dinner invite like a moth to a flame.
By the time the office finally emptied and the city outside darkened, I was still sitting at my desk, staring at the invitation on my phone.
I whispered to myself again, this time softer.
'You can't keep avoiding him forever.'
And yet, every part of me wanted to. Because the truth was terrifying: I didn't know if I was strong enough to face him without giving something away.