Chapter 4 – The Night We Almost Forgot
The rain hadn't stopped for two days.
The city seemed washed in gray, soft and blurred, like the world itself was tired of pretending.
Erica leaned over the glass railing of her balcony, watching the streams of water race down the streetlights. Somewhere far below, horns blared. She sipped her tea, though it had long gone cold. Sleep had become a stranger again.
She hated that her thoughts went where they always went—to him.
It wasn't fair. Dylan Cross had a way of filling silence even when he wasn't there. His presence lingered in her mind, in the rhythm of her heartbeat that sped up every time her phone buzzed, only to fall when it wasn't him.
She told herself it was curiosity—simple professional intrigue about how the merger would unfold. But the ache behind that lie was too familiar.
When her phone finally did ring, it wasn't him. It was Nora.
"Don't kill me," Nora started breathlessly. "But you might want to come in early tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Dylan moved the presentation up. He said it was urgent. Something about new projections from the London board."
Erica's chest tightened. "Of course he did."
"I tried to warn him you hate surprises," Nora said carefully. "He just smiled and said, 'She'll adjust.'"
Erica stared out into the rain. "Oh, she'll adjust," she muttered. "He just won't like how."
The Next Morning
By 7 a.m., she was in the office—coffee strong enough to melt steel in one hand, folder in the other. The boardroom lights were already on. Dylan was at the head of the table, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, as if he owned not just the company, but the air inside it.
He looked up when she entered. "You're early."
"I like to arrive before the chaos you create," she said coolly.
His lips curved. "You look—"
"Don't."
"—tired," he finished, smirking.
She sat across from him, spreading her documents. "You wanted urgency. Let's make it worth the lost sleep."
For an hour, they worked in tense synchronization. His pen scratched, her voice steady, the storm still whispering against the windows. Somewhere between spreadsheets and strategies, silence fell—not awkward, but heavy with everything they weren't saying.
"You changed the marketing rollout again," she said finally, flipping through the pages. "Without consulting me."
He leaned back. "I adjusted based on your feedback."
"My feedback didn't include rewriting the entire plan."
"Sometimes you need to rewrite things," he said quietly. "Not everything broken can be fixed where it cracked."
Their eyes locked. The air seemed to pulse.
"Are we still talking about business?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," he admitted.
The board meeting began two hours later. Half the executives from both companies filled the room, voices clashing, numbers debated. Erica spoke like a storm contained in silk—sharp, efficient, controlled. But every time she caught Dylan's gaze across the table, something inside her flinched.
When the presentation ended, applause rippled. The merger had passed its critical review. It was a victory—but it didn't feel like one.
As the others filed out, Dylan remained behind. "You were incredible," he said.
She closed her laptop. "Don't flatter me."
"It's not flattery if it's true."
She sighed. "What do you want, Dylan?"
He hesitated before answering. "A second chance."
"Professionally?"
He smiled faintly. "That's the safe answer."
Her pulse jumped. "And the real one?"
He took a step closer. "The real one terrifies both of us."
That night, fate—or something cruelly similar—trapped them in the office. The storm outside worsened, flooding most of downtown. The roads were closed, power flickered, and the generator kept the building running on emergency mode.
Everyone else left. Everyone except them.
Erica stood by the window, watching the sheets of rain blur the city lights. "Looks like we're stuck here."
Dylan's voice was soft behind her. "Could be worse."
"How?"
"I could've been stuck alone."
She didn't turn around. "You always were good with words."
"Not the ones that mattered," he murmured.
For a long time, neither spoke. The thunder rolled like an echo of something ancient and restless. Then he said her name—quietly, reverently.
"Erica."
She turned, and something unspoken passed between them, raw and trembling.
He crossed the space slowly, as if giving her time to walk away. She didn't.
When he was close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, he said, "I know you don't trust me. I don't blame you. But tell me what to do, and I'll do it."
"Stop making me remember," she whispered.
"I can't. You're the only thing I never forgot."
Her heart thudded painfully. "You left me, Dylan."
"I know." His voice broke. "And I've regretted it every day since."
The room felt smaller, air charged, the world outside dissolving into rain.
He lifted a hand, fingers hovering near her cheek but not touching. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
But she didn't.
Instead, she closed her eyes—and that was all the permission he needed.
His lips brushed hers once, hesitant, almost fearful. The years between them melted away in that single, trembling breath.
She kissed him back.
For a moment, it was everything—the anger, the longing, the ache of time undone. His hands tangled in her hair, hers fisted in his shirt, both trying to hold on to something they'd already lost once.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard.
"This changes nothing," she said, her voice shaking.
"Then let it change something," he pleaded. "Even if it's just tonight."
Her tears mixed with the rain against the glass. "You think we can pretend it won't hurt tomorrow?"
"I'm willing to find out."
She stared at him for a long, fragile moment—and then walked away.
She spent the rest of the night in the conference room, alone, pretending to work.
At some point, she fell asleep on the couch, the storm still raging.
When she woke hours later, there was a blanket draped over her and a note on the table.
You deserve peace, even if it isn't with me.
—D.
Her chest ached as she folded the note, tucking it into her planner.
Maybe she couldn't forgive him yet. Maybe she never would.
But for the first time since he'd come back, she didn't feel haunted.
She felt alive.
To be continued.....