Kesempatan Terlahir Kembali, Kesempatan Memilih Kembali

 Aisha’s POV

I didn’t mean to overhear them.

If the elevator had been slower…

If I had knocked first…

Maybe I wouldn’t have heard Aaliyah laughing.

The sound stopped me in the hallway outside Brandon’s apartment.

For a moment, I told myself I was imagining it. Aaliyah was my colleague at the firm. She was a good friend. She had been over for dinners before. Brandon knew her.

Still, something twisted uncomfortably in my stomach.

I stepped closer to the half-closed door.

And then I heard Brandon’s voice.

Low. Intimate.

Too familiar.

“You worry too much,” he said. “She’s flying home next week for her brother’s wedding anyway.”

My heart skipped.

Aaliyah laughed softly. “You’re terrible.”

My fingers tightened around the strap of my purse.

I should have walked away.

Instead, I pushed the door open.

The scene inside froze me in place.

Brandon sat on the couch. Aaliyah straddled his lap, her hands tangled in his hair while his rested comfortably beneath her.

Neither of them noticed me at first.

It was the kind of moment that would have been romantic… if it hadn’t shattered something inside my chest.

The sound of the door clicking finally made them look up.

Silence filled the room.

Brandon’s expression shifted from surprise to something dangerously close to guilt.

“Aisha..”

Aaliyah scrambled off his lap, taking the duvet to cover her shame. If she had any.

“I didn’t…” Brandon started again.

But I raised a hand.

It was strange.

I expected screaming. Crying. Rage.

Instead, all I felt was… empty.

“You don’t have to explain,” I said quietly.

Aaliyah wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Brandon ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not what it looks like.”

I almost laughed.

Of course it was.

I had spent two years building a life with him in London. Two years believing I had finally found something stable after everything that happened back home.

Apparently, I had been wrong.

Again.

I placed the spare key I had been carrying onto the coffee table.

“I came to surprise you,” I said simply.

The irony tasted bitter.

Then I turned and walked out before either of them could say another word. 

And the most painful part? He didn’t chase after me.

|||

Three days later, the email arrived.

My stomach dropped before I even opened it. For the first time, the thing I had been waiting for with such anticipation filled me with dread.

Since discovering that Aaliyah was sleeping with Brandon, I had been questioning everything, especially my decision to stay at Apex Holdings.

I hadn’t confronted either of them, and a part of me feared I never would.

I clicked the email.

Apex Holdings — Internal Transfer Approval

I gasped.

The position was in Winchester.

My hometown.

The same city I had spent four years avoiding.

I stared at the screen for a long time.

Maybe fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Or maybe it was giving me a way out.

I clicked Accept.

If I was going to start over, I might as well start from the place everything had fallen apart.

|||

The plane landed, and I inhaled deeply as I scanned the airport for any sign of Fiona. My best friend. 

“Aisha!”

I looked up just in time to see her running toward me, her grin wide and infectious. Relief bubbled in my chest as I hurried forward to meet her. We collided in a tight hug.

“Fiona! Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much.”

She laughed as she pulled back. “You wouldn’t even have been here if Ethan and I hadn’t insisted.”

I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “I just had a lot to do back in London.”

“Spare me,” she said, snatching my luggage from my hands.

I smiled. “I know you’re not mad at me. You could never be.”

She huffed playfully. “No one can stay mad at you, Isha. You’re just too damn adorable.”

My chest warmed at the compliment.

Though someone, somewhere, could and did stay mad at me.

We reached the car, a sleek sports model that screamed Ethan’s taste.

“Ethan wanted you to be picked up in grand style,” Fiona said sheepishly as she popped my suitcase into the trunk.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s never going to change.”

We talked about the wedding preparations as she drove. I wasn’t just back for the celebration.

I had other plans too.

Plans I wasn’t ready to voice.

Like starting a new job.

Or facing the past I had run from.

When we arrived, the mansion gates slid open with practiced precision, guards barely glancing at familiar faces. Ernest, the butler, stood at the front, flanked by three maids.

I inhaled the warm, familiar air of the estate. No one in London knew I came from a wealthy home. I stayed true to keeping a low profile.

Everything was exactly as I had left it four years ago, except for the flurry of activity preparing for the wedding.

And it reminded me of why London had felt safer.

I had learned to breathe elsewhere.

Here, every breath was measured.

“Welcome back, young miss,” Ernest greeted, gesturing to the maids to handle my luggage.

“Come on,” Fiona tugged my hand. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Fi.”

We got to my room.

I knew who she wanted to talk about.

But I wasn’t ready.

She sighed but stayed beside me. “You know he’ll be at the wedding, right? He’s Ethan’s best friend and all.”

I swallowed hard.

“I know.”

God, I wished he wouldn’t show up.

|||

The church was alive with emotion.

“Do you take Marie Ann Harris as your lovely wife?” the priest asked Ethan.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, sliding the diamond ring onto her finger.

“And you, Marie? Do you take Ethan Manchester as your loving husband?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You may kiss the bride.”

Applause filled the church as Ethan pulled her into a kiss.

Fiona nudged me. “Next is you.”

I smiled faintly.

Definitely not me.

We exited the church, heading toward the reception, when a low, growling engine cut through the chatter.

My heart stuttered.

A red Ferrari Daytona pulled up with a roar.

My stomach tightened.

Stepping out in a sleek black suit, with his hair curling at the nape of his tattooed neck, was Kyle Leicester.

The man I had spent four years trying to forget.

My brother’s best friend.

Seven years older than me. A man with a deadly reputation. Everything about him screamed forbidden.

“Kyle,” Ethan greeted warmly.

I braced myself, forcing a smile as he passed.

Not a glance in my direction.

“Ethan, congratulations,” he said, embracing my brother.

I swallowed hard.

Did he hate me this much?

They exchanged pleasantries as everyone was already driving away to get to the reception.

I turned to leave, my nerves getting the better of me, and missed a step.

A strong pair of arms caught me before I could hit the ground.

I looked up.

Kyle.

My heart thudded violently against my ribs.

For a split second, I thought his eyes softened.

They didn’t.

They were cold. Sharp. Filled with something that made my stomach twist painfully.

He steadied me on my feet, his hands dropping from my arms as if the contact burned him.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then his lips parted.

“Still causing accidents wherever you go?”

It felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

He hadn’t forgotten what happened four years ago.