Chapter 9 Nine

Saturday arrived far too quickly.

Lisa sat in the backseat of the sleek black Rolls Royce Johnson had sent, its polished frame reflecting the grey sky above. The interior was warm, almost too warm, and the scent of leather filled her lungs with every breath. The driver remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road, but inside Lisa, a war was raging.

Her fingers fidgeted with the silver clasp of her purse, her thoughts spinning faster than the tires rolling beneath her. The hum of the engine was low and steady, but her mind was a tempest-loud, chaotic, churning like a hurricane she couldn't escape.

She had told herself she wasn't going to get emotional. She had promised she wouldn't cave. She had even rehearsed what she would say, trying to lace every sentence with the strength she wanted so desperately to hold on to. But now? Now she wasn't sure of anything anymore. Not her words, not her feelings. Not even him.

The city blurred past the tinted windows. Familiar streets. Familiar places. But everything felt distant. Cold.

When the car finally pulled into the private parking of Johnson's high-rise, her heart gave an involuntary jolt. This place-once the site of laughter, of whispered promises and passionate kisses-now felt like a battleground. And she wasn't sure if she was the soldier or the casualty.

He was waiting at the entrance when she arrived.

Dressed in a plain white t-shirt and worn jeans, he looked frustratingly casual. As if this wasn't the most important conversation of their relationship. As if his soft clothes could mask the hard truths they needed to face.

"You look beautiful," he said as soon as she stepped out.

She didn't smile. Didn't even blink. "You're late."

He raised an eyebrow and glanced at his watch. "By three minutes."

"Three minutes too long," she said sharply, brushing past him.

Johnson gave a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh, trying to cut through the frost in the air. "Come inside."

The apartment was exactly the same-warm lighting, the faint scent of cinnamon air freshener, and the usual art-lined walls he had always been so proud of. But to Lisa, it no longer felt like a home. It felt like a memory she wasn't ready to revisit. A place that had betrayed her.

She stood stiffly in the entryway until he closed the door behind them. Then, without waiting for him, she walked to the living room and sat on the arm of the couch, arms crossed, guarded.

He moved toward her slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. "I blocked her," he said. "Everything's gone. Look."

He held out his phone to her.

She didn't even glance at it. "I'll believe it when I want to," she said coldly. "You don't get to decide when I forgive you."

"I know," he said, lowering his arm, the phone now limp in his hand. His voice was low, almost cautious. "I messed up. But Lisa... I didn't do it to hurt you. I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have brought you up. That was dumb. Careless."

Lisa's eyes narrowed. Her voice cracked like a whip. "Do you even realize how humiliating it was for me?"

His face twisted with guilt. "I didn't mean"

"She bumped into me!" Lisa cut him off, her voice rising. "She looked at me with this smug little smile and said she recognized my face. I had to lie to her, Johnson. I had to lie. Because of you."

Johnson ran a hand down his face, the weight of shame dragging his shoulders. "I didn't plan it like that. I swear. Jane... she's nothing."

Lisa let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "Nothing? Really? Because I'm pretty sure 'nothing' doesn't get a candlelit dinner. 'Nothing' doesn't get to talk about me behind my back."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"You made me a topic at your dinner table," she hissed, every word laced with betrayal. "While you smiled at her across the wine glasses. While she thought you were single."

"I didn't mean to"

"Then why mention me at all?" Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with fury. Raw and burning.

There was a silence then. The kind that makes your skin itch. A silence filled with unsaid things, regrets, and invisible wounds.

"I was proud of you," Johnson finally whispered.

Lisa blinked.

"She mentioned something about school and I... I just blurted it out. I said I knew you. I wanted to talk about you. I know it sounds messed up, but it wasn't out of disrespect. It came from admiration."

Lisa stared at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, but her face carved in stone. "You don't get to wrap your mistakes in pretty words and call it love."

"I love you," he said, taking a step closer. "I've never stopped."

She stood abruptly, needing distance. Needing air. "Love doesn't look like this, Johnson. Love isn't a maze of lies. It doesn't make me doubt everything."

He reached for her wrist, fingers trembling. "Lisa, please..."

She looked at him then, really looked. He looked broken. But she wasn't sure if it was because he was sorry or because he'd finally realized he could lose her.

"I'm tired," she said quietly. "I'm so tired of questioning everything. Of wondering if I'm enough. Of second-guessing every word you say."

He stepped closer, voice barely a whisper. "Just a chance, Lisa. Let me show you I mean it this time. Let me make it right."

For a long moment, she didn't move. Then slowly, she stepped into his arms and hugged him mechanically at first, and then with a sudden need to feel something familiar. Something real.

He held her tight, as if he feared she might disappear if he loosened his grip. "I swear to you... I won't mess up again."

The rest of the weekend passed in quiet healing. It was far from perfect, but there were moments small, fragile, tender where it felt like old times. They didn't talk much about Jane. Lisa didn't want to. Not yet. Johnson cooked breakfast, they watched old movies, and for fleeting hours, the cracks between them seemed to shrink.

But when Monday came, reality returned like a sharp wind.

Lisa walked back onto campus with her usual composure. A fresh week. A chance to focus. To leave things behind.

Her lecture hall buzzed with chatter, the voices around her blending into white noise. She slid into her seat, pulling out her notebook, trying to keep her mind on the material.

But then her phone buzzed.

She glanced at the screen.

"Hi my baby"

Lisa blinked.

The message was from Moses.

Moses.

Her heart skipped.

Her longtime crush. The guy who had haunted her teenage dreams. The one who had graduated two years ago, leaving behind rumors, smirks, and Lisa's unspoken feelings.

They had never dated. But the tension? It had always been there. Stolen glances, flirtatious smiles, late-night conversations that hinted at more but never crossed the line.

And now, out of nowhere, this.

Her fingers hovered over the screen. A million thoughts rushed in.

Why now?

What did he want?

Did he know she was seeing Johnson?

Did he care?

Her heart thundered, excitement dancing with danger.

Was it possible... that old chemistry hadn't faded?

She stared at the message, rereading it.

"Hi my baby."

He hadn't even asked how she was. He had claimed her like time hadn't passed, like things hadn't changed.

Lisa swallowed, her mind spinning again.

Johnson was trying. He had made a mistake, but he was still here. Still fighting.

But Moses... Moses was something else entirely.

A temptation wrapped in nostalgia.

Her phone buzzed again.

" Can we talk?"

Lisa bit her lip, her stomach knotting.

This wasn't just a message.

It was a door.

And now she had to decide whether or not to open it.