Chapter 11%
I wasn’t expecting much from the date Lucas arranged. In fact, I almost canceled last minute–twice. But after everything that happened, after finally putting distance between me and Brent, I owed it to myself to try. A date wasn’t a commitment. It was a step forward.“]
Still, I was tense as I waited at the little bistro tucked in a quiet corner of downtown Zürich. It had that warm, old–European charm with ivy crawling up the walls and a soft aroma of baked pastries and roasted garlic in the air. I picked a table near the window and waited, fingers curled around the edge of my coat.
Then the door chimed–and my heart stumbled.”
He walked in, tall and sharp in a charcoal coat, his dark hair just slightly tousled, his eyes scanning the room–until they landed on me. And then he smiled.”
Zack.
My childhood friend. My first almost–love. The boy who used to share orange popsicles with me on hot summer afternoons, who’d sneak me snacks during piano recitals, who once told me I had the kindest eyes he’d ever seen. We lost touch when he moved abroad for school and life caught us in different currents. But now–he was here.“>
I stood, stunned. “Zack?”
He grinned, that same charming, boyish grin I remembered. “Surprise.“}]
“You… you’re the date?” I blinked, laughter bubbling up.
He chuckled and walked over, pulling me into a warm, friendly hug. “Guilty. Lucas didn’t tell you, huh?”
I shook my head. “No. That little traitor kept it a secret.“}]
“Well,” Zack said, pulling out my chair like a gentleman, “I told him I wanted it to be a surprise.“}
It was. And a beautiful one, at that.”
We sat and talked. And talked. Hours slipped past like nothing.
We caught up about everything–his job as a structural engineer, my work with Lucas, the years we lost and how much we had changed… and somehow, hadn’t changed at all.
He told me about the cities he’d lived in, the books he’d read, how he still remembered the exact day we last saw each other: I wore a yellow dress and cried because I thought he’d forget me.}
“I never did,” he said softly.
I looked down, smiling. “Neither did I.”
After lunch, we walked by the lake, the snow crunching gently beneath our boots, and I didn’t even feel the cold. We got ice cream because we used to, and Zack insisted I still eat mint chocolate chip just like before. I did.
He made me laugh. Honest, belly–deep laughter I hadn’t felt in so long. Not the forced kind I gave people to pretend I was okay. This was different. It was light. It was real.
We talked about dreams we hadn’t chased, the relationships we’d learned from, and I told him–carefully, vaguely–about Brent. I didn’t want to dampen the mood, but he listened. Not with judgment. Not with pity. Just quiet understanding.
At one point, while we sat on a bench overlooking the water, he nudged my shoulder gently.
“I missed this,” he said. “You. Your laugh. Your fire.“}]
I glanced at him, my cheeks warm despite the chill. “I missed you too.“>
That evening, when he dropped me off in front of the villa, I hesitated before getting out.”
“This was… really nice,” I said.”
He smiled, leaning slightly closer, though still respectful. “I’d like to see you again. Not just as an old friend.“}]
My heart fluttered.}
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I think I’d like that too.“}]
I stepped out of the car with a weight lifted. For the first time in a long time, I felt… hopeful.!!
I climbed the steps to the villa, my chest full, cheeks sore from smiling.
But then I saw them.”
A bouquet.
Large. Lavish. Obnoxiously expensive.”
Red roses, white lilies, and baby’s breath arranged like a dramatic apology.”
I froze.
There was a card tucked in between the stems.
“Forgive me. Come back to me. – Brent.”
My stomach twisted.
He found me.”
After everything, he still had the audacity to send me flowers as if they would erase the betrayal, the silence, the nights I cried myself to sleep wondering why I wasn’t enough.”
As if petals could patch the wound he left when he chose obsession and cruelty over love and loyalty.!!
I stood there for a long moment, just staring at them.
And then, slowly, I picked them up–walked down the steps–and dropped them into the trash bin near the side gate. The flowers crumpled beneath the lid.
A small, bitter breath escaped my Hps.
“Too late, Brent,” I whispered.
Then I turned and walked inside–where laughter, tea, and my brother waited. And maybe soon, someone like Zack.
Because I wasn’t going to let someone who broke me think he could come back and own me with roses.}]
Not anymore.
