Chapter 1 The second chance

When the elevator doors opened, I didn't expect to see him holding a bouquet.

I also didn't expect the flowers to be for someone else.

For a second, the world just... stopped. The hum of the office lobby, the chatter from the reception desk, even the soft music piping through the ceiling, all of it blurred into a dull buzz behind my ribs.

There he was, standing under the pale light of the elevator, his tie slightly crooked like it always used to be when I'd fix it before meetings.

Same storm-grey eyes, same easy smile. A different girl was waiting for him in the hallway.

He looked surprised maybe even a little nervous but not the kind of nervous that comes from running into your ex.

No, it was the hopeful kind. The kind that belongs to someone who's about to say I love you to a new person for the first time.

I wanted to say something, anything. "Hi," maybe. Or

"You look good." Or even "You still owe me a coffee and three apologies.

" But the words stuck somewhere between my chest and my pride. So I just nodded, forced a smile, and stepped aside.

He passed me with a polite "Hey," like we were strangers who'd only ever shared a cab, not a life. The scent of his cologne trailed after him clean, warm, heartbreak wrapped in sandalwood.

I waited until the doors closed again before I let myself breathe.

The elevator doors sealed shut with a soft click, and I caught my reflection in the mirrored panel smudged eyeliner, fake composure, and eyes that still remembered too much.

"Rough morning?" the receptionist, Maya, asked without looking up from her computer.

"You could say that." I adjusted the strap of my bag, forcing a light laugh that didn't sound like mine. "Just ran into... a ghost."

Maya's eyebrows lifted, but I didn't explain. She didn't need to know that my ghost wore a navy suit and carried flowers that weren't for me.

By the time I reached my office, my hands were shaking. I told myself it was the caffeine, not the memories. Not the way his name...Evan still felt like a bruise I kept pressing just to see if it hurt.

I opened my laptop, trying to drown the morning in emails and deadlines. It almost worked until the intercom buzzed.

"Harper? There's a new client here for the marketing consult. Should I send him in?"

"Sure," I said, too quickly. "Send him in."

The door opened, and for the second time that morning, my heart forgot how to beat.

Evan stood there. No bouquet this time just that same careful smile.

"I guess we're working together," he said softly. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Neither did I.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with everything we hadn't said in two years. I tried to play it cool, fingers tightening around my pen.

"Business must be good if you're hiring outside help," I said.

He laughed... a genuine sound that hit harder than it should have. "Or maybe I just missed your ideas."

He meant my work, of course. But his eyes lingered a little too long, and suddenly I wasn't so sure.

I closed my laptop just a little too firmly, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. "All right, let's get started."

He pulled out a chair, his movements careful, deliberate, like he wasn't sure how close was too close. I hated that I noticed.

"Can you walk me through your marketing strategy?" he asked, flipping open a folder that was heavier than it looked, his brow furrowed in curiosity, eyes scanning the pages with careful attention.

I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to sound steady. "Of course. We focus on digital engagement first, then social campaigns..."

I spoke, but my attention kept drifting. Every little gesture, and how he brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, the way his brow furrowed when he was thinking, the slight curl of his lips when he was amused was painfully familiar.

Too familiar. Memories flooded in, uninvited: late-night brainstorming sessions, stolen coffee breaks, the way he'd always insist we split dessert even when I didn't want to.

Evan caught me staring once. He didn't say anything, just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, like he knew exactly what I was thinking...and maybe, that he was thinking the same thing.

Minutes stretched into an eternity. I tried to focus on the numbers, the charts, the client's potential ROI.

But every sentence I spoke was punctuated by the sound of his laugh echoing in my mind.

Finally, he leaned back, exhaling slowly.

"Harper... It's good to see you again, and you look amazing.

" His voice was low, tinged with relief and something unspoken, as if years of distance and silence had been suspended in this single moment.

He looked at my face carefully, searching for the same spark he remembered, and I couldn't tell if it was hope or hesitation reflected in his eyes.

I froze. Those words, casual as they seemed, carried more weight than I could handle. "Yeah," I said, my voice tighter than intended. "You too."

For a heartbeat, the room was quiet just the hum of the fluorescent lights and the subtle tick of the wall clock. Then he smiled that half-smile, the one that used to make my chest ache for no reason at all.

"Maybe we should start with the creative proposals tomorrow," he said, standing. "I don't want to rush anything today... or overwhelm you."

I nodded, pretending it wasn't hard to breathe.

"Sounds good," I said, forcing a smile, my chest tightening, and wishing I could speak the words I truly felt.

He paused at the door, looking back once, eyes lingering.

"Harper... I've missed this, and I missed you.

" He said, heart aching with memories, feeling the weight of lost years, and regret settle around him

And just like that, two years of distance, silence, and heartbreak crowded the room with us again.