The ballroom spun around Elena like a carousel she couldn't escape. Daniel's presence cut through the glittering night with surgical precision, reopening wounds she thought had long scarred.
He was exactly the same, and yet different. His dark hair still fell across his forehead in that careless way, his smile still carried the promise of mischief—but there was hardness now, lines etched into his face that hadn't been there before.
"Elena," Daniel repeated, stepping closer. "I can't believe it's really you."
Her mouth went dry. Words hovered at the edge of her tongue but refused to come out.
Adrian shifted subtly, positioning himself between them. His hand was still firm on her waist, grounding her, shielding her. But beneath that polished exterior, Elena could feel the quiet storm building.
"Do you know this man?" Adrian asked, his tone deceptively calm, his eyes sharp as glass.
Elena's pulse hammered in her throat. "I—yes. He's… someone I used to know."
Daniel's gaze flickered, hurt flashing behind his eyes. "Used to know?" He gave a strained laugh. "Elena, that's not fair. We were—" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. "We were more than that."
The words landed between them like a spark in dry tinder.
Adrian's grip tightened. His voice, low and cutting, carried enough steel to freeze the air. "And yet here she stands with me."
The two men stared at each other, silent currents of challenge passing in the charged space. Adrian, immovable, protective, eyes blazing with unspoken claim. Daniel, desperate, wounded, but unwilling to surrender the past.
Elena felt caught between two storms.
"I should go," she whispered, her voice trembling.
But Adrian turned to her, his hand brushing her cheek, gentling even in his fury. "No. Don't run, Elena. Not anymore."
Daniel's jaw clenched. "Run? Is that what he thinks of you?" His gaze burned into hers. "Tell me you're happy, Elena. Tell me this is what you want, and I'll walk away. Right now."
Her chest ached. The question sliced deeper than she wanted to admit. Was she happy? With Adrian, she felt alive, seen, cherished in ways she hadn't thought possible. But Daniel's sudden reappearance tore open doubts she'd buried.
"Elena," Adrian said softly, his thumb stroking her skin. "Don't let him rewrite the past. He left you. I never will."
The words were quiet but devastating.
Tears pricked her eyes. Too much, too fast. Her breath came shallow, and she shook her head, pulling back from both of them.
"I need air," she whispered, and before either man could stop her, she slipped through the crowd and fled into the night.
The cool air outside the ballroom slapped her cheeks, sharp and sobering. She leaned against a stone pillar, pressing her hands to her face, willing her heartbeat to slow.
Why now? Why Daniel? Why when her heart was finally opening again?
"Elena."
Her stomach clenched at the sound of Adrian's voice. He had followed her, of course he had. His footsteps echoed against the marble as he approached, but this time there was no sharpness in his tone. Only quiet concern.
He reached her, his hands gentle as they lowered hers from her face. "Talk to me."
Her eyes glistened. "I can't. Not here. Not tonight."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Adrian exhaled, his jaw tight with restraint. "Then promise me one thing."
She looked up at him, fragile. "What?"
"That you'll give me the chance he threw away." His voice was steady, fierce in its tenderness. "Don't let him steal what we're building before it's even begun."
Her throat closed. She wanted to promise. God, she wanted to. But the ghost of Daniel's words still lingered: Tell me you're happy…
And for the first time since meeting Adrian, Elena wasn't sure she knew the answer.
That night, lying awake in her bed, she realized something terrifying.
She had thought the hardest part of falling for Adrian would be surrendering her heart again.
But the real battle was only beginning—because the past was back, demanding a place in her future.
And she didn't know if her heart was strong enough to survive choosing between them.