Chapter 1 – The Return
By Chizzy
The city looks different now, but it still bleeds the same colors at dusk. Gold sliding into violet, just like her eyes when she used to look at me—half love, half warning.
Three years. That's how long it's been since I last saw Erica Monroe. Three years since I walked away and told myself it was the right thing to do. I built an empire instead of fixing what I broke. Yet every night, somewhere between the silence and the skyline, I still see her.
I came back for business. That's what I keep telling myself. But when I step inside the mirrored walls of my new office, I know it's a lie.
"Sir?" My assistant's voice cuts in. "Your six-o'clock meeting—Miss Monroe from Rivera Designs."
The name hits like a punch.
No warning. No time to breathe.
I turn toward the door just as it opens.
And there she is.
Erica.
Different haircut. Sharper posture. Same eyes.
She walks in like she owns the floor—shoulders straight, heels sure, every step daring me to flinch first.
"Mr. Cross," she says, tone professional but colder than winter glass. "I didn't realize Rivera Designs was working under your company."
"Neither did I," I manage. "But life's full of surprises."
Her mouth twitches. "Surprises, or traps?"
She still knows how to land a shot. I almost smile.
She sits without waiting for an invitation, sliding a folder across my desk. "Here are the layout drafts. Approve whichever suits your… vision."
I stay standing, close enough to see the tiny tremor in her hand when she flips a page. She's trying to hide it; she's always been terrible at pretending she doesn't care.
"You've changed," I say quietly.
Her eyes lift, steady. "People do that when they're betrayed."
I deserve the word. Still stings.
"You look stronger," I tell her. "Success looks good on you."
"Flattery doesn't erase what happened, Dylan."
"No," I say, voice low. "But maybe it reminds you that the story isn't finished."
For a heartbeat, everything stops. The hum of the AC, the city noise beyond the glass, even the air between us. She looks at me—really looks—and the years between us collapse.
Then her phone buzzes. She stands, breaking the moment clean in half. "This meeting's over. Send any follow-ups through my assistant."
I don't move as she walks out.
Her scent lingers—jasmine and memory—and I realize I'm still holding my breath.
I could let her go again. Pretend this meeting never happened.
But ghosts don't vanish just because you tell them to.
And I've always been haunted by her.
This time, I won't walk away.
Anticipate for chapter 2
It is gonna be more longer and you will love it
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