The scent of garlic and rosemary curled through Mia's small but stylish condominium, weaving into every corner like a promise of comfort. The stovetop ventilation purred softly overhead, a steady counterpoint to the gentle sizzle of chicken browning in the pan.
Cooking had become her sanctuary—her refuge after the relentless pace of corporate law. Here, there were no sharp suits, no intimidating conference rooms, no contracts laced with hidden traps.
No opponents waiting for her to falter. In this space, she didn't have to measure her words or steel her spine. It was just her, the rhythmic scrape of a wooden spoon against steel, the clink of utensils, and the earthy perfume of herbs seeping into warm oil.
But tonight, it wasn't comfort she was chasing. It was distraction.
She needed to forget Liam's face. The one that had branded itself into her memory all those years ago—and had come roaring back the moment she saw him again. Older.
She hated herself for noticing how much hotter he had become, how power had carved him into something dangerously magnetic. Seeing him again had been like reopening an old wound that never truly healed.
So she cooked. She poured every restless thought into chopping, searing, stirring—into anything that might silence the echo of his name in her mind.
Her lips moved with the faintest hum, a melody she barely recognized, as she dipped her spoon into the simmering sauce. She closed her eyes, tasting it at the tip of her tongue, willing the flavors to anchor her in something ordinary, something safe.
But the lie unraveled as quickly as it came. Even here, wrapped in garlic and rosemary, surrounded by the warmth of her kitchen, she couldn't shake him. The sanctuary she had built had betrayed her.
Instead of comfort, it became a stage for memory. She saw the sharp line of his jaw reflected in the curve of her spoon, heard his laugh threaded through the hiss of oil in the pan, felt his gaze burning against the back of her neck though she knew—knew—she was alone.
Her breath hitched. She set the spoon down too hard, the clink against metal startling in the quiet. And then—clear as if he stood right behind her—came a voice. Low. Familiar. Liam.
She pressed her palms against the counter, shutting her eyes as the truth settled heavy in her bones. She had only been fooling herself. Pretending she could cook him out of her thoughts, pretending she could drown his memory in rosemary and oil.
But she couldn't. Because even in the one place she thought she was safe, Liam still owned her silence. Liam still lived in the shadows of her mind.
"Smells like heaven in here."
Mia nearly jumped, her hand tightening around the wooden spoon. She turned to see Josh leaning casually against the doorway, his usual smug grin making him look far too pleased with himself.
"God, Josh," she exhaled, placing a hand over her chest. "One day, you're going to give me a heart attack."
He strolled into the kitchen like he owned it. "You gave me the code to your biometric lock. What did you expect? You know I can't resist barging in."
"I gave you that code in case of emergencies," she reminded him, turning back to the stove.
"This was an emergency," he replied without missing a beat, snatching a slice of bread from the counter. "I was starving."
Mia shook her head, fighting a smile. "You're impossible."
A few minutes later, they were at her small dining table, plates steaming between them as the city lights glimmered beyond the wide glass windows. Josh twirled his fork through his food before shooting her a look that cut straight past her polished composure.
"You're quiet tonight."
Josh's voice cut through the soft clink of silverware, his gaze sharpening as he studied her across the table. "Not your usual self." He leaned forward, his tone teasing at first, but laced with genuine concern. "What's wrong? Work drama?"
Mia blinked, forcing her lips into something that resembled a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She stabbed at the food on her plate, buying herself time. "Work is... fine."
Josh tilted his head, unconvinced. "That's not the Mia Villaruiz I know. Usually when Vale throws you a new case, you can't shut up about it." His eyes narrowed, a spark of worry replacing his earlier playfulness. "Talk to me. What happened?"
Her fork slipped from her hand, clattering against porcelain, the sound too loud in the small dining nook of her condo. She swallowed hard, finally meeting his eyes. "It was supposed to be the biggest account of my career, Josh. The one I've been waiting for."
He straightened, brows knitting. "Wait—you mean the corporate account? The one Vale's been chasing for years?"
She nodded, her throat tight. "He landed it. I was assigned to lead negotiations. Yesterday, I walked into the boardroom ready to make history."
Josh leaned forward, anticipation in his eyes. "And?"
Her laugh came brittle, broken. "And it was him."
The room went still.
Josh froze. "Mia..."
She shook her head, her chest aching as she forced the words out. "Liam. He's the CEO. The owner of the company Vale has been dying to get. The man I was supposed to work with." She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would erase the memory of seeing him again—older, sharper, more untouchable than ever. "Eight years later, and the universe throws me into his office like it's some kind of cruel joke."
Josh's expression darkened, his fork forgotten. "What did you do?"
Mia let out a trembling breath. "I sat through the meeting. I didn't let him see me flinch. I smiled, shook hands, took notes—like nothing was wrong. But the whole time, my chest was caving in. I could feel him watching me. And today..." Her voice cracked, and she gripped her napkin tighter. "...today I gave Vale a letter. I told him I couldn't take the account. I walked into his office and handed it to him myself."
Josh stared at her, stunned. "You turned it down?"
Her chest heaved as she tried to steady herself, but her voice shook. "It was supposed to be my future. My biggest break. And I gave it up in a single page. Because sitting across from Liam..." She swallowed hard, her throat closing around the words. "It ripped me apart, Josh. It was like being eighteen again—watching him choose someone else, watching everything I thought I knew collapse."
Josh reached across the table, his hand covering hers. "You mattered, Mia. You still do. Don't let him make you believe otherwise."
Her lips trembled. She wanted to believe him, to draw strength from his certainty, but the ghost of Liam's eyes—the way they had flicked up to meet hers in that boardroom, sharp and unreadable—still haunted her.
Josh squeezed her hand tighter. "You've built a life without him. You're stronger than he'll ever be."
Her throat tightened with unshed tears. "Then why does it still hurt this much?"
Josh's features softened, his voice gentler now. "Because first loves don't just vanish. They leave scars. But scars don't mean you're broken, Mia. They mean you survived."
She let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. "And lost the biggest case of my career in the process."
Josh shook his head firmly. "No. You chose yourself over him. That's not losing—that's winning."
But as she sat there, hand in Josh's, the truth gnawed at her. Yesterday, she had seen Liam Alcaraz again, alive in the flesh, a man carved by power and time. Today, she had walked away from the account that could have made her name.
And yet it wasn't relief she felt—it was devastation. Because one look, one single moment in his presence, had been enough to unravel eight years of carefully built armor.
Mia set her fork down and met his eyes. "You know, I don't think I've ever really said this enough... thank you."
He frowned slightly. "For what?"
"For saving me," she said softly. "After Liam..." Her voice trailed off for a second, but she forced herself to keep going. "That was the lowest point of my life. I'd just started to recover from losing my dad, and my entire family left me. I didn't think I could take another hit."
Josh leaned back, his expression gentling.
"It was you," she continued, her tone steadier now. "You, Liam, and Daniel... you gave me the strength to keep going. Even after Liam broke my heart and chose Stacy... even when I thought I'd lost every reason to believe in people, you and Daniel stayed. You're the only ones who never left."
Her voice wavered, but she held his gaze. "And that summer—when you took me to your hometown after your parents died..." Her chest tightened with the memory. "You'd just lost your parents that time, but you still found a way to help me. You didn't have to."
Josh's features softened, his voice low. "You needed someone. And I... needed someone too. Guess we held each other together."
Josh looked away for a moment, clearing his throat. "You needed a friend. And I... needed someone to keep me from drowning in all that grief. Guess we saved each other."
A small smile curved her lips. "And then you made me your part-time assistant so I could keep studying."
"You were the only one I trusted," he said with a shrug. "Besides, you were too stubborn to accept money from me outright. Had to disguise it as a job."
She laughed softly, the sound easing the heaviness between them. "Still the best boss I ever had."
He smirked. "Careful, I might hire you back."
Their laughter filled the space, warm and familiar. And for a little while, the ghosts of the past—the heartbreak, the losses, the names they didn't speak—stayed where they belonged.
Josh leaned back in his chair, a playful spark in his eyes as he twirled his fork.
"I told you years ago—get yourself a boyfriend. You've had plenty of suitors. And Mr. Vale? He's single now. Divorced, even. Rich, good-looking... what's your excuse?"
Mia laughed, shaking her head as she stabbed a piece of chicken.
"My excuse is you. As long as you don't have a boyfriend yourself, I'm not going to bother. And besides, I don't have time for romance, Josh."
The corner of his smile faded. He set his fork down and looked at her for a long, searching moment.
"I'm gay, Mia. And do you really think there's someone out there who would truly love me? The real me? Not the version they imagine, not the role I play—but me." His voice was low, steady, but she could hear the truth under it. "I have Daniel. I have you. That's enough. A boyfriend? He'd probably just break my heart."
Her chest tightened at his quiet honesty. "You deserve better than that," she murmured.
But he only tilted his head, his gaze sharpening.
"And you deserve better than what you've let yourself believe." His voice softened, almost coaxing. "Are you sure this isn't about him at all?"
Her fork paused midair. "Josh—"
"You don't have to hate men just because one broke you," he pressed, leaning forward. "You deserve to be happy, Mia."
She gave a small, almost brittle laugh. "I don't hate men. And Liam has nothing to do with my decision to be single."
The flicker in her eyes gave her away.
Josh smirked knowingly. "Uh-huh. And I'm suddenly allergic to drama."
She glared at him, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. "It's not about him," she insisted—too quickly.
Before she could continue, a familiar voice came from behind her.
"Am I interrupting, or can I join you two?"
Mia turned to see Daniel standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, that easy smile on his face—the same one that had once made her feel safe in ways she'd never been able to explain. Josh's expression brightened immediately.
"Daniel! Perfect timing. Sit down before Mia eats everything."
Daniel pulled out the chair beside her, his presence instantly shifting the air at the table. He always carried a quiet steadiness with him, like a tide that never rushed but was impossible to ignore.
"Did I miss something?" Daniel asked.
The words landed softly, but the silence that followed was sharp enough to sting.
His smile faltered—just slightly—but enough for Josh to notice. The playful sparkle in Josh's eyes dimmed, his mouth closing mid-smirk. The air shifted, heavy and uneasy, pressing down on all three of them.
Mia's pulse skipped. An ache settled low in her chest, and she knew exactly why that tiny shift in Daniel's expression felt like a punch.
The memory of that summer was still sharp: the back porch of Josh's hometown house, the fading gold of the setting sun, and Daniel standing in front of her with his heart in his hands. He had told her then—in that quiet, steady way of his—that he'd ended things with Dina because he couldn't pretend anymore. That he was still in love with her.
She could still see him in that moment: hands shoved in his pockets, bracing himself for rejection but still hoping—always hoping—that maybe one day she would feel the same. And she remembered how, year after year, he had stayed single. How his patience had stretched into something almost unbearable in its constancy.
Now, sitting beside him, the guilt gnawed at her. Because only yesterday she had seen Liam again. And ever since, she hadn't been able to think of anything else. His face, his presence, the old wound he had ripped open—it haunted her, crowding out everything, even Daniel. Especially Daniel.
Her fingers tightened around her fork. She forced a smile, forced her tone light. "Josh was just teasing. It's just work. That's all this is."
Josh gave a hollow chuckle. "Yeah. Just work. No romance. Right."
But the table didn't recover. Beneath the surface, the air had shifted into something fragile and unspoken.
Mia felt it in every brush of Daniel's shoulder against hers when he reached for his glass, in the subtle gentleness of his voice when he asked about her week. She felt it in the way he listened—like he always had—as if she were the only person in the room.
And the guilt coiled tighter in her chest.
Because she knew the truth: Daniel was still waiting. Still holding on. Still carrying the same love he had confessed years ago.
And she? She couldn't give it back. Not fully. Not when her heart had never healed, when Liam's return had torn open scars she'd spent years stitching shut.
It hurt—God, it hurt—to sit beside a man who deserved her whole heart, knowing all she could offer him was the fractured, bleeding pieces someone else had left behind.