Jeremy’s voice cut through the silence, steady yet unfamiliar in its softness. “Let me drop you at your hotel.” I blinked, watching as he mounted his Harley. The sight sent a wave of nostalgia crashing over me. I had assumed he’d sold it before moving to Japan, but here it was—untouched, just like the memories I had tried so hard to bury. “I didn’t book a hotel,” I admitted, avoiding his gaze. “I went straight to Ana’s after landing.”

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, so deep it sent a shiver down my spine. I frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then why did you laugh?”
His lips curled into a smirk. “Because you’re adorable when you’re frustrated, buttercup.”
That nickname—once the spark that made my heart race—stirred something familiar within me.

“Come on,” he said, handing me a helmet. “You can stay at my apartment.”
“The one you and Aaron shared in college?”

He nodded, and before I could overthink it, I climbed onto the bike. My hands instinctively gripped his shoulders—a touch both comfortingly familiar and heartbreakingly loaded. As we rode through the dimly lit Parisian streets, I closed my eyes, trying to shake off the memories clawing their way to the surface. The night I told him I was leaving for London. The way he had stared at me—silent, unreadable. The way I had walked away, convinced it was the right thing to do.

A sudden stop jolted me forward. My heart pounded as I gasped, “What happened?”

"A cat crossed our path.” His voice was calm, but I wasn’t. I started to pull my hands away from his waist, but his grip tightened, holding me there. A tear slipped down my cheek as I squeezed my eyes shut—an unspoken plea: why are you doing this, Jer? It hurts. Please don’t.

By the time we reached his apartment, my emotions were a tangled mess. Jeremy held the door open, and I stepped inside. The space felt warm and inviting—just like before. The open kitchen on the left, the fireplace on the right, the staircase leading to the bedrooms—all smelled the same: lived-in, safe, and familiar. I wandered toward the fireplace, letting the flickering flames chase away the cold that had seeped into my bones.

A few moments later, Jeremy returned from the kitchen with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and held it out to me. “Here. This will warm you up.” I took it, our fingers brushing lightly. “Thanks.” Without another word, he led me upstairs to the guest room. The bed was neatly made, a small desk by the window—so much like how it had been in college. I murmured another thanks as he closed the door behind him.

I should have slept. I tried, curling up with my book, letting the silence of the apartment swallow me whole. Until I heard voices. I froze, my fingers tightening around the pages. A woman’s voice drifted up the stairs, soft yet unmistakable.

“When are you coming back?”
Jeremy’s reply was calm: “Maybe in two or three days.”
Then a tender murmur: “I miss you. Come back soon.”
A lump formed in my throat.

“I miss you too,” he reassured her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”

My breath hitched. The book slipped from my grasp as I stepped back. My foot caught the edge of a table, and a vase toppled over with a crash that echoed through the silence.

"Aiza?" Jeremy’s voice was sharp with concern as he appeared in the hallway, his gaze locking onto mine.

I swallowed hard, struggling for composure. “I…I’m sorry, I dropped it by mistake.” He studied me for a moment, then said, “I thought you were asleep.”

“I woke up thirsty,” I lied. He studied me in silence for a heartbeat, then nodded and stepped aside as I made my way to the kitchen. My hands trembled as I poured a glass of water, my fingers clinging tightly to it. I took a sip, feeling a burning in my throat—was it from the thirst or the knot of emotions forming deep inside?

I turned to head back upstairs when Jeremy’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

Jeremy’s voice cut through the silence, steady yet unfamiliar in its softness. “Aiza,” he called, softer this time. I hesitated before looking at him. His eyes held something unreadable—concern, maybe confusion.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

I frowned. “Doing what?”

“Avoiding me. Avoiding… us.”

A sharp pain sliced through my chest. My grip on the glass tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sighed, stepping closer, his brows furrowing. “Yes, you do.”

I let out a dry chuckle, setting the glass down carefully on the table. “Jeremy, don’t do this. Don’t make it sound like I’m the one who ran away.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t—”

“You didn’t call,” I cut in, my voice quieter but firm. “For a whole year. And I— I was stupid enough to wait. To check my phone every single day. Do you know how pathetic that feels?”

Jeremy’s expression softened, but I shook my head and looked away. My hands trembled as I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“And when I finally did hear your voice again,” I laughed bitterly, “I thought maybe—just maybe—you missed me too. But then I come here and realize… you’ve already moved on.”

The words tasted like poison on my tongue. My gaze flickered toward his phone, the memory of that soft, affectionate voice from the call still ringing in my ears.

“Aiza…” Jeremy reached for me, but I took a step back.

“Don’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Please don’t.”

My vision blurred as I turned and walked away, my chest tightening with every step. But before I could reach the stairs, his voice caught me again—low, raw, and filled with something I couldn’t place.

“Aiza, I never moved on.”

I paused, my hand gripping the wooden railing of the staircase, my breath caught in my throat. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. Slowly, I turned around, my vision still blurry from the unshed tears.

Jeremy stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hands curled into fists, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“I never moved on from you.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it felt like a scream in the silence between us.

I let out a shaky breath. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Jeremy.”

His brows furrowed as he took a step forward, his movements careful, like he was approaching something fragile. “You think I don’t mean it?”

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping my damp cheek with the back of my hand. “That’s exactly what I think.”

Jeremy exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You have no idea what the past year was like for me.”

My arms wrapped around myself, as if I could hold myself together. “Yeah?” My voice cracked. “Because it looked pretty easy from where I stood.”

His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened. “Easy?” he repeated, disbelief lacing his tone.

I swallowed, gripping the railing tighter. “You disappeared, Jer. No calls, no texts, nothing. Do you know how many nights I stayed up, wondering what I did wrong? Do you know how many times I convinced myself that maybe you were just busy? That you’d come back?” My voice wavered and my lips trembled as I continued. “And then I heard that phone call tonight, and I—” I sucked in a sharp breath. “I finally understood. I was waiting for someone who had already moved on.”

Jeremy closed his eyes for a brief moment, his fingers flexing at his sides as if he were trying to contain something fragile and overwhelming. When he opened them again, there was a raw edge in his tone.

“I didn’t move on.” His voice was thick with something painful. “I—” He hesitated, as though forcing the words out hurt him. “I was in an accident, Aiza.”

Silence fell between us. The air shifted, heavy and suffocating.

I blinked. “What?”

Jeremy let out a shaky breath, his hand gripping the back of his neck. “It happened a few weeks after I got to Japan. I was on my bike, and—” He inhaled sharply. “A truck ran a red light. I barely survived.”

My stomach dropped. My knees buckled as the shock of his words took hold. “Jeremy…”

“I spent months in the hospital,” he continued, his voice tight. “I lost my phone in the accident, and by the time I got back to work, I—I didn’t know how to reach out to you. So I thought… maybe you had moved on too.”

Tears blurred my vision as my hands trembled at my sides. He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “I told myself that maybe you were better off without me.” His voice grew quieter. “But I wasn’t better off without you.”

I covered my mouth with my hand as a sob broke free, uncontrolled. The pain in his eyes, the regret, the love—it was all too much.

“I called you,” I said, my voice barely audible. “So many times.”

Jeremy’s face twisted with guilt. “I know.” He took a slow step toward me. “And I hate myself for not answering. For making you feel like I didn’t care.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was too much. Too raw. Too overwhelming.

I felt his hand—warm, familiar—cup my cheek. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was, so close I could feel the heat of his brow against mine.
“I never stopped loving you, buttercup,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears I hadn’t even realized were falling.

My breath caught in my throat, my body trembling with every pulse of memory.
“Then why does it still hurt so much?” I whispered, my voice raw as the question tore itself free.

He closed the final inch between us, his forehead settling against mine.
“Because we lost time,” he admitted, voice heavy with regret. “But I swear to you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it.”

My heart thundered so loud I feared he could hear it. I took a shaking step back—then another—watching his face twist in longing, his hand hovering as if he wanted to follow me but couldn’t.
“You don’t get to say that,” I found myself whispering. “You don’t get to show up after a year and expect me to—”

My words caught in my throat as the weight of everything I’d carried all those months threatened to crack me in two. Jeremy swallowed, desperation pooling in his eyes. “Aiza, I—”

“No.” My voice broke, hollow. “You let me believe I wasn’t enough. You let me think I was just some phase—someone you could leave behind without a second thought.”

The silence that followed felt like the breath before a storm. He opened his mouth, then paused. “I swear, I thought you’d be better off—”

I laughed, but it was bitter and hollow, echoing off the walls.
“Better off?” I snapped. “You really think I was better off crying myself to sleep? Or staring at my phone, waiting for a message that never came? You think I was better off watching you move on while I spent a year wondering what I did wrong?”

His eyes darkened, hurt and anger wrestling on his face. I shook my head, stepping back again until the fireplace crackled behind me.
“No,” I whispered. “You don’t get to do this.”

He closed the distance a fraction, jaw clenched.
“Aiza, please—”

“Did you ever plan to come back?” My voice was quiet, but every syllable carried the weight of a year of unanswered questions.

He froze, and for a moment, I saw the truth flicker in his eyes. That was my answer. I nodded, a bitter, broken smile tugging at my lips.
“That’s what I thought.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back fiercely. Not now. Not after everything.

He drew in a ragged breath, stepping forward with desperate resolve.
“I’m here now.”

I shook my head, vision blurring.
“You’re too late.”

Before he could speak again, before the room could swallow me whole, I turned away and walked out of the echo of his words—away from the man who had shattered me, and toward the path I had to find on my own.