The House by the water

The car ride upstate took just under two hours, but to Emma, it felt like the longest drive of her life.

She watched the city fade behind her, giving way to wide open roads, golden hills, and the early blush of autumn trees. The farther they drove, the more memories stirred ones she had buried in silence for a decade.

The lake wasn’t new. It had been their escape when they were kids. Quiet. Untouched. A place Jake always said felt more like home than anywhere else.

It figured that he would return here.

Or maybe he had never left it behind.

The driver took one last turn off the main road, tires crunching over gravel as a wrought iron gate slid open. Beyond it, the estate rose into view sleek, modern, breathtaking. Glass, steel, and stone carved into a hill that overlooked the water like it had always belonged there.

Jake's touch was everywhere.

Clean lines. Elegant design. Cold beauty.

Just like him now.

Emma stepped out of the car, blinking against the crisp morning sun. The lake glimmered below, calm and endless, as if it too held secrets beneath its surface.

“Ms. Lane,” a voice called out.

She turned to find a tall man in a dark suit approaching. Mid-forties, serious, clipboard in hand.

“I’m Daniel. Mr. Reed’s estate manager. I’ll show you to your workspace.”

Emma followed him through the main entry, her heels muffled by polished wood floors. The inside of the house was just as stunning. Double height ceilings. Open-plan rooms flooded with natural light. Minimalist furniture. Cold. Impressive.

But impersonal.

“Mr. Reed prefers discretion,” Daniel said as they walked. “He travels often. You may not see much of him.”

Emma almost laughed. She had seen more than enough already.

They turned down a hallway that opened into a bright studio space overlooking the lake. A drafting table, fabric samples, digital monitors everything she needed had already been delivered.

“You’ll have full access to the property. Blueprints are on the desk. He wants the interiors finished within three months. He’s also requested frequent progress updates.”

“Of course,” Emma said, masking the knot in her stomach.

Daniel handed her a key card. “Your guest house is just behind the main residence. Fully furnished, stocked. You’ll find it comfortable.”

Guest house. Right. She was staying here.

Of course she was.

Jake had arranged everything trapped her in a world he controlled.

But she nodded anyway. “Thank you.”

Daniel gave a short nod and disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps fading fast.

Alone now, Emma turned in a slow circle, taking in the studio. It was beautiful. Perfect. And yet, a cage.

She walked to the window, pressing her fingers to the cool glass. The lake stretched out in front of her, still and silent. The same lake they had swum in that last summer. The same lake he had kissed her beside, just days before she disappeared.

The memory hit hard and fast his hands in her hair, his voice promising forever, and her heart already breaking.

She was still at the window when she heard the door open behind her.

She turned.

Jake.

No suit today. Just a black T-shirt, jeans, and that same unreadable expression.

“Settling in?” he asked, as casually as if they’d seen each other yesterday.

“Yes,” she said, folding her arms. “The house is beautiful.”

He looked around the room like he hadn’t seen it before. “It’ll do.”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything else.

“So,” she said, pushing down the awkward silence. “Why bring me here? You could’ve hired anyone.”

Jake’s eyes didn’t flinch. “I wanted the best.”

“You hate me.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He looked past her, toward the lake. “This place was always for us. You know that, don’t you?”

Her breath caught.

“I bought the land five years ago,” he continued. “Started building two years later. Designed it myself.”

She looked around again more closely this time. And suddenly, she saw it.

The porch swing that matched the one at her childhood home. The floor-to-ceiling windows like the ones she used to sketch in front of. The pale blue color palette she once said felt like peace.

He hadn’t forgotten a thing.

“I didn’t come here to open old wounds,” she said quietly.

Jake laughed under his breath. “Then why did you come?”

She couldn’t answer.

He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers. “You left without a word, Emma. And I built an empire trying to forget you. But I didn’t. Not once. And now you’re here again, walking around this place like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t,” she lied.

Jake stepped even closer. “Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

Her throat tightened. “Don’t do this.”

“Why did you leave?”

She stared at him. The question hung in the air, sharp and raw.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

His jaw clenched. “Then don’t expect forgiveness.”

“I’m not asking for it.”

They stood there, frozen in silence, memories roaring between them.

And then, just like that, Jake turned and walked out.

No goodbye. No warning.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Emma sagged into the nearest chair, breath shaking.

What had she done?

That evening, the guest house felt too quiet.

She unpacked in silence, arranging her clothes, her tools, her notebooks. Everything neat. Controlled.

But her thoughts wouldn’t cooperate.

She sat by the small fireplace, nursing a cup of tea she didn’t really want. Her fingers brushed over the edge of her phone again and again.

She wanted to call Noah. To tell him everything.

But what would she say?

That she’d seen the man she once loved, and he still burned under her skin? That his house whispered with memories she’d tried to forget?

That he still hated her and maybe, still loved her, too?

She pulled her knees up and stared into the fire.

This job was going to break her.

And she wasn’t sure if she’d survive it.