Chapter 2 - The return of old shadows

The party was everything it was supposed to be..... loud, glittering, full of people pretending they weren’t exhausted by the performance of it all. Glasses clinked, laughter floated in the air, perfume mixed with champagne bubbles, and the music was thumping hard enough to make the walls hum.

I should’ve been at ease here. I was used to this world, used to the flashing lights, the questions, the eyes always watching. I had taught myself how to stand tall in places like this. But then… I saw him.

And just like that, everything inside me stopped.

It’s strange how a single look can drag you back years in a matter of seconds. My chest tightened, my throat caught, and suddenly my body remembered things I had worked so hard to forget. His jawline, the way he carried himself, the kind of smile that wasn’t really a smile at all, it all came rushing back.

I hated it. I hated that after all this time, my body reacted before my brain could. And my brain, oh, it was screaming. Screaming his betrayal on a loop like a broken record.

“Miss! Over here, this way please!”

The shout of a photographer yanked me out of the trance. I turned toward him, my lips curving into the perfect practiced smile. Chin tilted just right. Shoulders angled to catch the light. I had been doing this for years. Performing strength, performing perfection. Because let’s be honest, the world doesn’t care about your cracks. They only love the ones who survive them.

So I gave them what they wanted. I smiled, posed, answered questions. I laughed at things that weren’t funny. I let them think I was untouchable.

But the whole time, I could feel him. His gaze was heavy, like chains pressing down on me, pulling me back into the past I swore I’d buried.

I had to get away.

So I slipped through the crowd, my heels clicking softly against the floor until I reached the balcony. The air was cooler there, brushing against my skin, calming me just enough to breathe again. The city stretched out below.... lights flickering, cars moving like restless veins. I leaned against the railing, closed my eyes, and tried to steady myself.

That’s when I heard him.

“You still run when it gets too loud.”

My eyes opened slowly, and there he was. Standing in the doorway like he owned it. Like he owned everything. His jacket fit too well, his hand loose in his pocket, a glass of whiskey dangling from the other. He was completely at ease, and I hated how familiar it felt to see him like that.

“I don’t run,” I said, keeping my eyes on the city. My voice was calm, but inside my pulse was a mess. “I choose peace. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

He chuckled, and that sound...... God, that sound was too familiar. Low, warm, dangerous. I used to melt when I heard it. Now, it scraped through me like sandpaper.

“Peace?” he repeated, stepping closer. “No, cariño. Not you. You’ve always had fire in your eyes. You wanted war, even when you didn’t say it out loud.”

I turned to him finally, met his gaze, let him see that I wasn’t afraid anymore. “And you’ve always wanted control. You never admitted that either.”

He didn’t look away. His jaw tightened, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. And then, slow as if he had all the time in the world, he set his glass down on the railing and leaned in. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that the air between us felt like it could catch fire.

“I don’t deny it,” he said quietly. His voice had shifted.....softer, but more dangerous for it. “I wanted you then. I want you now. The only difference is…” His eyes moved over me, deliberate, taking me in. “…you’re stronger now. Fiercer. And that only makes me want you more.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t a sweet sound. It was brittle, sharp, the kind of laugh you only learn after surviving heartbreak.

“You think I’m still that girl? The one you molded and used? She’s gone. You killed her.”

Silence stretched between us. His jaw clenched tighter, his eyes darkened, and for a second I thought I saw regret. But no—what I saw instead was that smirk. That same infuriating smirk that once made my knees weak.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, as though he was tasting the word. “But I’ll resurrect her.”

And just like that, memories slammed into me.

Flashback....

We were in his studio, the one he swore was “our place.” Guitars leaning against the wall, empty coffee cups scattered across the table, scraps of lyrics written in my handwriting. He had this way of looking at me when I sang like the world could end in the next second, and he wouldn’t notice because he was too busy watching me.

“You’re magic,” he told me once, his voice low, his hand brushing mine. “I’d be nothing without you, cariño.”

And I believed him. I believed every word, because when you’re nineteen and in love, you don’t think about lies. You think about forever.

But forever came crashing down the night I heard my song, our song, on the radio, with his name stamped on it and mine erased like I’d never existed. I remember sitting in my tiny apartment, the air heavy with betrayal, the sound of his voice filling the room. Singing my lyrics. Taking my story. Claiming it all while I sat there invisible.

That was the night the girl I used to be died.

Back to the present....

I blinked hard, pulling myself out of the memory before it drowned me. I refused to let him see that kind of weakness again.

I stepped past him, my shoulder brushing close but never touching. My perfume lingered in the air, sharp and deliberate, like a warning shot.

“Try,” I whispered, my voice low, steady, certain. “And you’ll see just how much I’ve learned to bite.”

And then I walked away.

Every step echoed against the marble, my gown flowing behind me like a wave, my heels striking with a rhythm that felt like thunder. My heart was racing, my chest was tight, but I didn’t look back. Not once.

Because this time, I wasn’t that girl anymore.

This time, I wasn’t small.

This time, I was the storm.

And storms don’t bow. They break.