The days following the gala passed in a haze of sleepless nights and restless thoughts. Elena tried to lose herself in work, in routine, in anything that might drown out the weight in her chest. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't silence the two voices that haunted her.
Adrian's, low and steady, filled with certainty: I'll never leave you.
And Daniel's, aching with the pull of the past: Tell me you're happy…
Her heart swung between them like a pendulum, unable to settle.
It was Wednesday when Daniel found her.
She had just finished a lecture and was gathering her notes when his voice came from the doorway, tentative but firm.
"Elena."
Her hand froze on her papers. She looked up, her breath catching. He leaned against the doorframe, dressed casually in a white shirt and dark jeans, a stark contrast to the glittering gala. Here, he looked more like the boy she once knew—the one who had walked her home under moonlit skies, whispered dreams against her hair.
But he wasn't that boy anymore.
"What are you doing here?" Her tone was sharper than she intended, but she needed the distance.
Daniel stepped closer. "I had to see you. After the other night, I couldn't just… leave it like that."
She closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself. "Daniel, you shouldn't be here."
"Why? Because of him?" His voice hardened. "Because Adrian Blake has claimed you?"
Her pulse stumbled. "It's not like that."
"Isn't it?" He came nearer, his expression raw. "I saw the way he looked at you. Like you belonged to him. But Elena—" His voice broke slightly. "You were mine once. And I can't stand by and pretend you weren't."
The words hit her like a blow. For a moment, the memories surged—Daniel's laughter, their stolen kisses, the promises they had once whispered as if forever were theirs to command.
But with the memories came the pain. The nights she cried alone, the emptiness he left behind.
"You left," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You walked away when I needed you most."
Daniel's jaw clenched. "I was young. I was stupid. I thought leaving was the only way to give you a chance at the life you deserved. But I never stopped loving you, Elena. Not for a single day."
Her throat tightened. Tears threatened.
And then—
"Elena."
Her heart lurched at the sound of Adrian's voice. He stood in the doorway now, tall and commanding, his presence filling the room like a storm. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, locked on Daniel.
"What the hell is this?" Adrian's tone was quiet, but laced with danger.
Daniel straightened, refusing to back down. "A conversation. Between two people who share a past you'll never understand."
Adrian stepped forward, his gaze like steel. "Whatever past you had, it ended the moment you left her. You don't get to come back and stake a claim now."
"Stake a claim?" Daniel laughed bitterly. "Is that what this is to you—a possession? She's not your prize, Blake."
Adrian's jaw flexed, his fists curling at his sides. "No. She's the woman I love. And I'll be damned if I let her get hurt again."
The word hung in the air—love. Elena's breath caught, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Neither man moved. The tension in the room was electric, sparking like live wires. Both of them looking at her now, both waiting, both demanding something she wasn't ready to give.
"Elena," Daniel said softly, his eyes pleading. "Just tell me. Tell me you don't feel anything for me anymore, and I'll walk away."
"Elena," Adrian countered, his voice low and unwavering. "Tell him you're mine, and he'll never bother you again."
Two men. Two promises. One heart, breaking under the weight of both.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Because the truth was brutal. She felt too much—for both of them.
That night, long after they had both left, Elena sat alone in her apartment, staring at the ceiling.
Adrian's declaration of love echoed in her chest, warm and terrifying.
Daniel's confession of never stopping haunted her, bittersweet and heavy.
And somewhere deep inside, she realized something she hadn't dared admit before.
No matter what choice she made, someone's heart—including her own—was going to shatter.