Chapter 2

The next morning, I went to my shift at the coffee shop as if nothing had happened. The familiar scent of roasted beans and steamed milk was a strange comfort.

I had kept this job, even after Damien made it big. He' d asked me to quit a dozen times.

"You don't need to do this anymore, Blanche. I can take care of you."

But I always refused. This coffee shop was near the university where we first met. It was the last piece of my old life, the life before him, and I couldn't let it go. It was also a tether, a reminder of where he came from, a place I foolishly thought he might need to return to one day.

I had planned to give my two weeks' notice today. My manager, a kind older woman named Mrs. Gable, was sad to hear it.

"Are you sure, dear? We'll miss you. You're the best barista I've ever had."

Her kindness made my throat tighten. "I have to move back home," I said, the lie tasting like ash.

"Well, could you do me one last favor? We have a big catering order for a tech conference downtown. My other girl called in sick. I'll pay you double."

I agreed. I could use the money.

The conference was in a sleek, modern building with glass walls and cold steel accents. It was Damien's world. As I set up the coffee urns and pastry trays in a side lounge, I saw it.

On a digital display board cycling through photos of the event's speakers, there was a picture of Damien and Carson.

They were standing side by side, smiling. He looked relaxed, happy. A genuine smile, not the tired, strained one he gave me anymore. Carson was radiant, her hand resting lightly on his arm, a gesture both casual and proprietary. They looked like they belonged together.

"They make a great couple, don't they?"

I turned to see two women in business suits looking at the same picture.

"He's Damien Rowe, the genius from Apex Innovations. And she's Carson Wall. Her father is a tech mogul, a big investor in his company."

My hand trembled as I poured coffee. I kept my head down, hoping they wouldn't notice me.

"Is he really with her?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Oh, totally," the first woman said, not even looking at me. "He's obsessed with her. He never used to come to these networking events, but now he shows up to everything she's at. He even redesigned his entire lab's interface based on a suggestion she made."

"I heard he even buys her coffee every morning, the expensive kind from that little artisan place," the other added. "God, what I wouldn't give for a guy like that."

A sharp pain, colder and more intense than my chronic stomach ache, seized me. He buys her coffee every morning. He remembered her coffee order but always forgot my birthday.

"What about the woman he lives with?" another colleague joined them. "The one from his hometown?"

The first woman scoffed. "Oh, her? She's just some leech. I heard she works as a waitress or something. Can you imagine? Damien Rowe, a man on the cover of tech magazines, with a waitress? It's embarrassing."

"Someone should tell him to just pay her off and get rid of her. She's dragging him down."

The words were like stones, pelting me, bruising me. I felt my face flush with shame.

I wanted to scream that I wasn't a leech. I was the one who lifted him up. But what was the point? In their world, I was nothing.

"Are you okay, miss?" one of the women asked, finally noticing my pale face.

I forced a smile. "Yes. I think you're right. They do make a perfect couple."

I finished my work in a daze, my hands moving on autopilot. I packed up the empty containers and wheeled the cart out, desperate to escape.

I hurried through the lobby, my head down, wanting only to disappear into the anonymity of the city streets.

Then I froze.

Through the revolving glass doors, I saw them. Damien and Carson, standing on the sidewalk.

She was laughing at something he said, her head tilted back. She reached up and adjusted the knot of his tie, her fingers lingering on his chest for a moment too long. He didn't pull away. He just watched her, a soft smile on his face.

"The resonance frequency of the quantum processor is unstable," he was saying, his voice animated in a way I hadn't heard in years. "But if we reroute the cooling system through a tertiary manifold..."

Carson nodded, her eyes bright with understanding. "You could create a stable quantum state without sacrificing processing speed. Brilliant."

They were talking about his work, his passion. They were speaking a language I would never understand.

The gap between us had never felt so vast, so insurmountable. It wasn't just about money or status. It was about connection, about minds meeting. He had found his equal.

And I was just a ghost from a past he was desperate to forget.

I turned and fled, not looking back.

When I got back to the apartment, he was already there. He was standing in the living room, surrounded by moving boxes.

He had found the cake box in the trash. The single, burnt-out candle was still there.

"It was your birthday yesterday," he said, his voice quiet. He looked guilty.

I just nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

"I'm sorry, Blanche. I... I forgot. There was a crisis at work."

"It's fine," I said.

"I'll make it up to you," he promised, the same empty promise he always made. "We'll go out to a nice dinner next week."

"Don't worry about it, Damien. You should focus on your work. It's more important." I was already letting him go. I was making it easy for him.

He seemed relieved. "Okay. If you're sure."

He looked at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "What did you wish for?"

I wanted to say, 'I wished you loved me.'

But before I could answer, his phone rang. It was Carson. She'd had a flat tire on the way home from the conference.

"I'll be right there," he said, grabbing his keys. He was gone in a flash, leaving me alone with my un-wished wish and a house full of boxes.

I ate the leftover cheesecake for dinner. It was cold and sweet, but all I could taste was bitterness.