The next day, I applied for a new position in another city.
Only transfer open? Overseas.
Perfect. The farther, the better.
By day three, the company fast–tracked my passport, and I was gone.
Five years flew by.
I buried myself in work, tuned out the world.
Every now and then, updates from home popped up–friends, clients–but I never listened too hard.
Time dulled the pain. The memories blurred.
Eventually, I worked my way up to president of our overseas branch.
Spring rolls around, and HQ called me in for a report.
The moment I step into the office–bam. Quentin.
And of course, we ended up in the same elevator. Just the two of us.
He looked at me, steady, but his voice cracked a little.
“How’ve you been?”
I didn’t answer. Just nodded.
We used to spend nights tangled up, spilling every thought like it mattered.
Now? I didn’t even wanna speak.
Ding.
The elevator stopped.
I stepped out. He grabbed my wrist.
His face gave nothing away- except for that hint of a plea.
“Dinner tonight. I’ll be at the old spot.”
+15 Bonus
Chapter 8
I slipped my hand free, didn’t say a word.
As the doors closed, I caught his voice–low but firm.
“I’ll be there. No matter what.”
After the meeting, I kept going back and forth.
Seven years. Might as well end it properly.
The old place was still there. Just a tiny street–side restaurant.
I used to hit it up between shifts and night classes.
It’s where he first told me he loved me.
Didn’t think Mr. Balvin would remember us.
Dude looked way older–gray hair, slower shuffle–but his smile hit like a throwback.
“Didn’t think you two were still a thing.”
“Let’s not get it twisted. Me and him? Not even friends anymore. Just bring the usual.”
Quentin’s lips tightened. Yeah, that hit him.
