Chapter 106

Lila’s POV

Daniel’s footsteps were soft, careful, almost reverent as he entered the living room. His gaze went immediately to the couch, where Ethan lay curled up, his little chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of dreams. Relief washed over Daniel’s face, loosening the tension in his jaw.

“Thank you, Lila,” he said quietly, his voice low so as not to disturb his son. “Seeing him sleep so peacefully means he must have had a good time here.”

I shook my head quickly, brushing away the credit. “I didn’t really do much. Honestly, Ethan didn’t give me any trouble. He is very easy to be around.”

Daniel’s smile was small but real, the kind that lingered in his eyes even when his lips settled. “Still, it matters. You gave him something I couldn’t give because I was away; comfort. That means more than you know.”

The sincerity in his words made my cheeks warm. I turned slightly, busying myself with adjusting the throw blanket draped across the armchair. “Do you need anything? Maybe water?”

“Yes, actually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Water would be great.”

Grateful for the excuse to move, I rose and slipped into the kitchen. The tap ran cool and clear into the glass, the sound filling the quiet house. As I carried it back, I noticed how the fading evening light stretched shadows across the floor, wrapping the room in a golden hush.

Daniel had taken a seat by the couch. He wasn’t leaning back, wasn’t relaxing, his body was angled toward Ethan and he rested his hands so gently on the boy’s small shoulder as though even in sleep, he wanted his son to know he wasn’t alone.

I handed him the glass. He murmured a soft “thanks” before taking a sip, and I settled across from him in the armchair, my hands folded in my lap. For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the old clock on the wall.

“What do you do now, Daniel?” I asked, curiosity breaking the silence.

He looked up, surprise flickering across his face as though he hadn’t expected the question. Then his expression steadied into something calmer. “Electrical works” he said. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s honest work.

Honestly, it was always something I wanted to do. When everything fell apart” his voice faltered briefly, though he caught himself quickly “I went back to it. It gave me structure, something to hold on to. And now… I enjoy it.”

His words carried no boast, no need to impress. Just truth, plain and steady.

“That sounds… grounding,” I said softly. And I meant it.

He tilted his head, studying me with quiet curiosity. “And you? You mentioned you are into event planning. What kind of events do you handle?”

“Mostly corporate and personal events,” I replied. “Company launches, conferences, weddings, birthdays… you name it.”

He nodded, impressed. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “It can be. But it’s rewarding too. I like creating experiences people will remember.”

“And what about now?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “What were you working on before you came back here?”

I hesitated, my fingers brushing the edge of the chair. Part of me wanted to keep it vague, but another part wanted him to know I hadn’t just been drifting in the city. That I had built something, something real.

“Do you know Sinclair Enterprises?” I asked.

His eyebrows rose. “Of course. It's hard not to. Their last hotel launch was everywhere on the news.”

“Well I planned that launch,” I said quietly, my voice steady despite the knot tightening in my chest.

His eyes widened. “Wow. Lila… that’s huge. You were really doing well out there.”

The pride in his voice startled me. It wasn’t the empty flattery I had grown used to in New York, the kind that always carried hidden expectations. It was genuine, simple and free of agenda.

But then he asked the question I wasn’t ready for.

“Then why did you come back? If you were building an amazing life there… why leave it behind?”

The words landed heavy between us, their weight filling the silence.

I swallowed, my gaze dropping to my hands. Should I tell him? About Max, about Drew, about the chaos that drove me from the city? About the fear that still clung to me, whispering in the quiet that my past wasn’t done with me yet?

I wasn’t sure. Trust didn’t come easily anymore.

Before I could decide, the sound of the front door opening for the second time that evening cut through the moment. My parents stepped in, their voices carrying with the cool evening air.

“Ah, Daniel!” Mom’s face lit up as she noticed him. “And Ethan too, though he seems fast asleep.”

Dad smiled warmly, setting down a small bag of groceries. “It’s good to see you, Daniel.”

Daniel rose immediately, careful not to jostle Ethan as he leaned down to scoop him into his arms. The boy stirred but didn’t wake, his small hand still clutching the toy car tightly.

“Thank you,” Daniel said to my parents, his voice polite but firm. “And thank you again, Lila. For everything today.”

“You should stay for dinner,” Mom offered, her tone hopeful.

He shook his head gently. “Maybe some other time. I should get Ethan home now.”

Mom nodded in understanding, though I caught the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She had always been quick to offer warmth, quick to extend her table to others.

With Ethan nestled against his shoulder, Daniel gave us all a final smile and headed toward the door. The night air swallowed the sound of his footsteps, leaving the house quiet once again.

I sank back into the armchair, my gaze lingering on the door long after it closed. My parents busied themselves with putting things away, their chatter filling the space. But inside, my thoughts spun.

Daniel’s question echoed still: Why did you leave if you had such a good life?

I didn’t have an answer. Or maybe I did, but I wasn’t ready to share it.

The real question wasn’t about why I left. It was about what came next.

Could I trust Daniel enough to let him in, even as a friend? Could I let someone see the parts of me that were still raw, still healing?

And deeper still, had I healed enough to even consider opening that door?

I didn’t know. But as the night settled over me, one thing was clear: the past wasn’t finished with me. And neither, perhaps, was the future.