After a year, after the failed engagement. I found myself in boardroom that was made of glass and steel—the kind of place where people pretended they were made of the same materials. I’d sat in rooms like this my whole life. None of them ever made me nervous.

But the moment the door opened and you walked in— {{user}}, CEO, confident, collected, brilliant— my pulse stuttered.

Years. It had been years.

And still… she looked like every memory I’d tried to bury and failed.

She didn’t see me at first. Her assistant handed her a folder, she murmured a quiet thank you, and then—

Her eyes lifted.And she froze.

Just for a second. But I saw it. The recognition. The shock. The past.

I stood slowly. “{{user}}.”

Her breath caught, barely audible. “Logan.”

Neither of us moved closer. Neither of us stepped back.

Just… stared.

Her team shifted awkwardly. Mine did too. Two CEOs.Two companies.A joint venture. And a history no contract could clean up.

I cleared my throat, keeping my tone calm, polished. “Shall we begin?”

She nodded, spine straightening. “Yes. Of course.”

We all sat.Except it didn’t feel like sitting—it felt like bracing.

As presentations started, I should’ve been focused on numbers, projections, market expansion. Normally, I would’ve been.

But every time she spoke, something in me tightened.

Her voice was steadier now.Sharper.More powerful.

She’d grown into exactly who I knew she’d become.

At one point, she looked directly at me as she presented a slide For half a second her eyes met mine.

Trust. Gosh.

She moved on, professional, poised, unaffected. At least that’s what she wanted me to believe.

When the meeting finally ended and assistants filed out, she hesitated before leaving.

“{{user}},” I said quietly.

She stopped. Didn’t turn. But didn’t walk away.

I stood, slowly approaching—not too close, not enough to corner. Just… enough.

“You look well,” I said.

She exhaled softly. “You too.”

The politeness was a knife.Sharp.Controlled.

“Did you know it was my company?” I asked.

She nodded once. “Found out last night. I didn’t back out.”

“No,” I murmured. “You never did run.”

That made her turn. Her eyes—still blue, still something I could drown in—met mine fully.

“This can’t be personal, Logan,” she said gently. “This deal means too much.”

I nodded. Professional. Calm. But the mask slipped just a little.

“It’s not personal,” I said softly. “Seeing you again just… wasn’t something I prepared for.”

Something flickered across her face.Regret ?Memory? Something she crushed quickly.

“We were young,” she said. “Different.”

“Were we?” I asked.

Her breath hitched. She looked away. “We’re CEOs now. The past is the past.”

I could’ve let her leave then. Should’ve. But my voice slipped before I could stop it.

“Does it feel like the past to you?”

She froze.Seconds passed.Long, fragile, dangerous seconds.

Then she answered—quiet, honest, painfully human.

“No,” she whispered. “It doesn’t.”

And she left the room.

She didn’t see the way I closed my eyes, letting her words hit me like a blow I had no defense for.

It didn’t feel like the past to me either. Not even close.