A Love That Lingers

Emma Lane’s heels echoed sharply in the marble lobby of the Sterling Hotel, each step ringing a little too loudly for her comfort. She adjusted the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder and inhaled deeply, steadying the fluttering in her chest.

It was just another project. Just another high-end client with more money than patience. She had done this a hundred times—luxury condos, penthouses, vacation estates. The rich rarely looked her in the eye, and that suited her just fine.

But something about this job felt...off.

The inquiry came through her company’s website late at night. No client name, just initials. A generous offer triple her usual rate, plus a bonus if she agreed to meet immediately. No design briefs, no consultations. Only a signed NDA and instructions to come to the Sterling Hotel, penthouse suite, 3 p.m. sharp.

And she came.

Not because of the money though it helped.

Because something inside her whispered she had to.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and Emma stepped into the penthouse hallway. The silence here was thick, padded with wealth. Every detail—the lighting, the brushed steel handles, the soft scent of wood polish—was carefully curated to impress.

She paused outside the door.

Room 5500.

Her heart pounded against her ribs like it was trying to warn her.

With one final breath, she knocked.

The door opened almost instantly, and the world tilted.

There he was.

Jake.

Older. Sharper. Still devastating.

He stood by the tall windows, his silhouette framed by the gray New York skyline behind him. He hadn’t turned around yet, but she didn’t need to see his face to recognize him.

Her heart remembered.

When he did turn, slowly, deliberately, she felt the floor vanish beneath her.

The boy she had loved was gone. In his place stood a man with hard eyes and a colder smile.

“Hello, Emma.”

His voice hadn't changed. It still held that calm, low timbre that once lulled her to sleep on quiet nights. But now, it was laced with something else. Steel.

Emma opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Jake arched an eyebrow. “No hello? Not even a fake smile for old times’ sake?”

Her fingers tightened around the portfolio in her hands. “You own the lake property?”

“i owe a lot of things now."there was no warm in his tone,no smile just distance and something colder beneath.

Ten years ago she left him,without a word.Now he was a billionaire and she was standing in front of him like a fool.

Jake moved closer, eyes unreadable. “You took the job. You didn’t even ask who the client was.”

“I needed the work,” she said, quietly.

“Still running blind into things, I see.”

That one cut deep. But she deserved it.

“Why hide it?”

“I didn’t. You just didn’t ask.”

Her stomach twisted. “I wouldn’t have taken the job if I’d known.”

“I was counting on that.”

He took a slow step forward. His gaze, once warm and full of laughter, now held shadows.

“You haven’t changed,” he said, eyes scanning her. “Same quiet confidence. Same stubborn chin.”

Emma bristled. “People do change.”

Jake tilted his head slightly. “Did you? Because the Emma I knew disappeared without a word.”

The accusation cut deep, but she didn’t flinch. “You think I wanted to leave like that?”

“No,” he said, tone dry. “I think you didn’t care.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, Emma. What’s not fair is giving everything to someone and waking up to find them gone.”

Silence fell between them like a wall. The only sound was the faint hum of the city below, and the hollow ache of unfinished conversations.

Jake turned and walked toward the bar at the side of the room. “Drink?”

“No.”

He poured one anyway for himself. A splash of something dark and expensive.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Emma said, her voice quieter now. “I thought this was a simple job.”

Jake glanced at her over the rim of his glass. “Nothing about us was ever simple.”

She swallowed. “If this is some kind of revenge”

He barked a short laugh. “Revenge? That would require emotion. This is business. You’re good at what you do. I want the lake house finished in three months. Think of it as... closure.”

“Closure,” she echoed bitterly.

“You owe me that much.”

She took a step forward. “You don’t get to say what I owe you.”

Jake’s eyes met hers. For a second, just one, she saw something flicker. Pain. Or maybe she imagined it.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I don’t.”

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Emma’s voice shook. “Why now?”

He didn’t answer at first. He walked to the window again, staring out at the skyline.

Then: “Because some ghosts don’t go away until you let them walk through the door.”

Her breath caught.

And that’s when she realized this wasn’t about design, or business. This was about the past they never buried.

Jake finally turned back to her.

“You can start Monday. There’s a car waiting downstairs. It’ll take you to the property.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue, to walk away, to say something anything. But nothing came.

So she nodded.

And walked out.

The door clicked shut behind her, but her chest stayed open, raw.

Some loves don’t die.

They wait.

And some wounds don’t heal.

They just… linger.