Chapter 5: Heat and Hollow Promises

The apartment smells like lilies, Ethan’s choice, not hers.

The flowers sit on the dining table in a perfect white vase, the kind that looks expensive and fragile, like everything else in their home.

Rae stares at them while the rain hums against the glass walls, the city outside blurred into streaks of gold and gray. She’s still half in the boardroom. Dane's voice echoing in her head, sharp and steady.

“Still sculpting?”

“You’ve changed.”

Her fingers drum against the counter.

“Long day?” Ethan’s voice cuts through the fog. He stands by the kitchen island, shirt sleeves rolled up, a drink in his hand. His smile is easy   too easy. The kind that doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

“You could say that,” Rae murmurs.

He studies her for a moment, then sets the glass down and walks closer. “You look tense.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

She forces a small smile. “You don’t have to fix everything, Ethan.”

He chuckles, low and controlled. “It’s called caring, Rae. Some people appreciate that.”

The words sound gentle, but there’s an edge beneath them, a quiet reminder, like a blade resting just against her skin.

She looks away. “I didn’t say I didn’t appreciate it.”

“You didn’t have to.” He steps behind her, his hands brushing her shoulders in what could pass for affection. “You’ve been distant lately.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With work?” His tone sharpens slightly. “Or with something else?”

She turns, brow creasing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ethan smiles again, softer this time, disarming. “Nothing, sweetheart. Just asking. You know how much I hate when things start feeling... off.”

Off. That’s his word for control slipping through his fingers.

Rae nods, swallowing the tension. “It’s just the collaboration project. It’s been complicated.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Complicated how?”

“Just... politics. You know how these things go.”

Ethan tilts his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. “And this project it’s with Dane Warren, right?”

Her stomach twists. “Yes.”

“Interesting choice,” he says quietly, pacing toward the window. “Didn’t he used to work under your father’s firm?”

She exhales slowly. “For a while.”

“I remember him.” He looks back at her, his tone deceptively light. “The one who disappeared after that scandal? The merger that went south?”

Her heart stutters. “That was years ago, Ethan.”

“I know.” He smiles faintly, but his eyes are too focused. “Still funny how people like that find their way back, isn’t it?”

Rae doesn’t answer.

The silence stretches. The city lights reflect in his glass, cutting his face in half, half in shadow, half in gold.

Ethan finally turns, his voice smooth again. “Don’t get too caught up in old memories, Rae. They have a way of rewriting the truth.”

Her jaw tightens. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

He steps closer again, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I always worry about you.”

The words sound tender. They feel like a warning.

Later, when Ethan falls asleep beside her, Rae lies awake staring at the ceiling. The rain hasn’t stopped. It taps against the window in a slow, persistent rhythm.

She slips out of bed quietly, padding barefoot across the floor to her desk. Her sketchpad lies open where she left lines of charcoal, unfinished shapes, half-formed faces.

She picks up a pencil.

The image starts to take shape almost on its own, strong jawline, familiar eyes, the shadow of a smile that used to mean everything.

Her hand trembles. She drops the pencil.

The sound wakes Ethan slightly. He shifts in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds like her name, then turns away.

Rae exhales, rubbing her temples. The air feels too tight, the walls too close.

The next morning, she’s back at the office. The corridors buzz with energy, but everything feels distant   muted, like she’s watching from behind glass.

Dane is there before her meeting, talking to a few executives. His suit is crisp, his tone detached. He doesn’t see her at first.

Rae hesitates by the doorway, then steps in.

Their eyes meet.

For a heartbeat, the air stills. Then he nods slightly, the gesture impersonal. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replies.

They take their seats across from each other again, the same table, the same fragile distance.

Halfway through the meeting, one of the consultants brings up the creative proposal for Rae's department’s draft.

“This concept feels emotionally charged,” the consultant says, sliding a printout forward. “It’s risky, but striking.”

Rae looks at Dane. He studies the design of clean lines, abstract shapes, the suggestion of two figures intertwined but never touching. His expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes does.

He taps the page lightly. “It’s bold.”

“Too bold?” Rae asks quietly.

He meets her gaze. “Not if you mean it.”

The silence that follows is electric. Everyone else starts discussing logistics again, but neither of them moves.

Ethan’s voice echoes in her mind: Don’t get too caught up in old memories, Rae.

She forces herself to look away.

Hours later, she’s at lunch with Lila, her best friend, the only person who’s seen her unravel and not walked away.

“You’re pale,” Lila says, stirring her coffee. “And don’t tell me it’s just work.”

Rae gives a humorless laugh. “It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated like taxes, or complicated like emotional masochism?”

“Both.”

Lila raises an eyebrow. “Ethan?”

Rae hesitates. “He’s been... different. Watching everything I say, everything I do. And then there’s this project with Dane ”

Lila groans. “Oh no.”

“ and it’s fine. We’re professionals.”

“Sure,” Lila says flatly. “And I only drink coffee for its health benefits.”

Rae almost smiles, then shakes her head. “It’s just... I thought I’d buried it. What we had. What I did to him.”

Lila leans in, voice low. “People like that? They don’t stay buried. Especially if they were real.”

Rae looks down at her cup, watching the steam rise and fade.

“Do you still love him?”

The question lands like a stone.

Rae doesn’t answer.

That evening, she gets home late. Ethan’s waiting in the living room, jacket off, a glass of scotch in his hand.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” he says, voice smooth but too calm.

“I was in meetings.”

“Meetings with Dane?”

Rae freezes. “You’ve been checking my schedule?”

He shrugs. “It’s not checking if I’m concerned.”

“Ethan ”

“I just want to understand where your time goes,” he interrupts. “You’ve been distracted lately. Cold.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then let me take care of you.” He stands, walking toward her. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“I’m not ”

“Shh.” His thumb brushes her chin gently, tilting her face up. “You overthink everything, Rae. You always have.”

The gesture is intimate, but her skin crawls.

He smiles. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Do you?” she whispers.

“Of course,” he says softly. “You’re my future.”

His lips graze her forehead, and for a fleeting moment she wonders if the man she fell for ever truly existed or if she’s been loving a version he crafted for her.

As he turns away, her phone vibrates on the table, a message from an unknown number.

Her heart skips.

“You still sculpt at midnight.”

Her fingers tremble.

She looks toward Ethan, who’s pouring another drink. He doesn’t see the message.

But she does.

And the words feel like fire in her veins.