My past was knocking on my door

Genevieve’s pov

His face was a ghost from my past, sharp and familiar, a face that once brought comfort but now left me breathless. The chiseled jaw, the neatly trimmed mustache, the dark, beautiful eyes. God, those eyes. They were unmistakable. The same ones I had gazed into with so much love years ago. The same ones I saw every morning in the little angel I dropped off at school. I didn’t know how long I stared, My mind was caught in a storm of disbelief and dread. My heart ached, a deep, sharp pain that rippled through me. What the hell was he doing here? And then it hit me. Could he be... the client?

“No.” The word slipped out of me, a desperate whisper. I shook my head, trying to take the possibility away. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. His mouth quivered as if he was about to speak, and that’s when I snapped out of my daze.

“Ge... Genevieve?” he finally said, he too was shocked, not planning to see me just the same way I wasn’t planning to meet him.

“Sorry?” I managed to speak and my voice went down and very distant.

“Gennie?” he said again, louder this time, his tone full of a mixture of hope and confusion.

I forced a frown, the walls I had built over the years slamming back into place. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who’s Gennie?”

His eyes softened, scanning me as if he was trying to reconcile the woman in front of him with the young lady he once knew. “Genevieve,” he repeated, his voice more certain now, as though saying my name aloud would make me stay. I swallowed painfully as he stood. The table between us felt insignificant, a flimsy barrier against the storm of emotions his presence stirred in me. His sheer height, his muscular frame, it was all the same. I used to tiptoe just to reach him, stealing kisses that felt like they could stop time.

“Genevieve? Is this really you?” His voice cracked slightly, his expression raw with disbelief.

I straightened my posture, summoning every ounce of strength I had. “What? Genevieve? I don’t know who that is.”Alex sighed and ran his hands over his face, his disbelief clear in every gesture. He looked like a man caught between reality and a dream, trying to piece together the fragments of what he was seeing. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was on me, heavy and unrelenting. He hadn’t changed much, but neither had I. At least not in ways that would make me unrecognizable to someone who once knew me so intimately. I knew he was taking it all in, my fuller figure, the curves I had gained, the professional sharpness of my dress. The way his eyes trailed me made my skin prickle, but not with desire, but with fear.

“God, Gennie. Is this really you?” He took a step forward, and I instinctively raised a hand to stop him.

“Don’t come near me,” I said quickly. “I don’t know you or who the hell Gennie is.” My voice trembled at the end, but I refused to back down. His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but I couldn’t take it. Turning abruptly, I pushed past the café doors and into the cold air outside. I stumbled toward my car, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts. My vision blurred with tears, and my hands trembled as I fumbled with the keys. By the time I collapsed into the driver’s seat, I was shaking so hard I could barely start the engine. Why was he here? Why now? My mind descended into dark places. Alex had always been wealthy, resourceful enough to get anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers. What if he followed me to Italy? What if he found out? My safe haven, the life I’d carefully rebuilt, everything I’d sacrificed to protect, it could all come crumbling down. Tears burned my eyes as I clutched the steering wheel, struggling to calm my breathing. I tried to focus, to ground myself in the present.

“Breathe, Gennie. Breathe,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.

My phone buzzed beside me, startling me out of my spiral. I reached for my handbag, pulled out the phone, and glanced at the screen. A text.

"Apologies for the delay. I’ll be there in ten minutes."

It wasn’t Alex. I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding my chest. He wasn’t the client. My panic had been for nothing or so I tried to convince myself. Still, the thought of him being here, of seeing him again, clawed at my resolve. I had left that chapter of my life behind for a reason. Seeing him now wasn’t just a reminder of the past, it was a threat to everything I had fought so hard to protect. Time slipped by as I sat there, lost in my thoughts, until another buzz pulled me back. My client was inside, waiting. I straightened, wiped at my damp cheeks, and took a deep breath. I couldn’t afford to fall apart now. I had a meeting to get through. But as I stepped out of the car and headed back toward the café, the feeling of being watched was on me like a shadow. I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the street. No one. Still, his presence was something I would call a dreadful dream, a reminder that no matter how far I had run, the past had finally caught up with me.