The city was unusually quiet that evening.
Catherine sat curled into the corner of Elijah’s battered couch, knees tucked up, a cup of hot chocolate warming her fingers. The garage had closed early — rain made the roof leak again, and he’d invited her upstairs to wait it out. “Cozy,” she said with a teasing smile, surveying his small apartment. “Very grease-chic.” He smirked. “Glad you approve. You can’t even see the ceiling stains in low light.” “I thought they were abstract art.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee, watching her like he couldn’t decide whether she was real or a dream. “I can’t believe you drink hot chocolate,” he said. “I can’t believe you don’t.” She took another sip. “Also, marshmallows are non-negotiable.” She looked up to find him closer now. Closer than he had been a minute ago. Their banter quieted. The room pulsed with something heavier — warmer than the drink in her hand. She put the cup down slowly, watching him. “You keep looking at me like that,” she murmured, “and I might start thinking you want to kiss me.” He took another step, now just a breath away. “What if I do?” “Then stop hesitating.” The tension was unbearable — slow, sweet, and sharp all at once. His hand brushed her jawline, tracing down her neck, light as air. His lips hovered just over hers. One more inch and— BANG. The apartment door burst open. A woman stood there, soaked from rain, dripping onto the floor like a storm that hadn’t finished breaking. “Elijah,” she said, her voice tight. “You haven’t been answering your phone.” Catherine froze. The woman was stunning — tall, sharp-cheekboned, dressed in a trench coat that screamed expensive. Her gaze cut to Catherine, then back to Elijah. “Who is she?” Catherine stood slowly. “I was just leaving.” “No,” Elijah said, stepping in, voice low. “You don’t have to.” Catherine looked between them. Her heart knew better. But her pride? It already had one hand on her purse. “You have company,” she said, her voice clipped. “I shouldn’t intrude.” The woman smirked, arms folded. “Don’t worry. I’m used to surprises. Aren’t I, Eli?” He flinched. Catherine saw it. Saw enough. Outside, the rain had softened to a drizzle. Catherine walked fast. Too fast. Like she could outrun the sting in her chest. She wasn’t even his girlfriend. He owed her nothing. So why did it feel like betrayal? Inside, Elijah shut the door behind the woman. “Leave, Talia.” “I didn’t know you were entertaining heiresses now,” she said, voice sweet as venom. “Do your little poor-boy lies still work on girls like that?” “Talia,” he warned. She leaned in. “You walked out of our world, Elijah. You can’t cherry-pick what you want from it. Sooner or later, it catches up.” She tossed an envelope on his table — sleek, heavy, gold-embossed. An invitation. The Blakes Gala. “Your father sent me to remind you. RSVP before you embarrass him further.” She paused at the door, turning back. “She’s pretty, by the way. Too bad she won’t survive the truth.” And then she was gone. Back at Catherine’s apartment, she threw her soaked jacket on the floor and paced. Stupid. She shouldn’t have gone there. She shouldn’t have let him look at her like that. Touch her like she mattered. Her phone lit up with a message. Elijah: “Please don’t let tonight be the end of this.” She stared at it. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. “Who is Talia?” Message delivered. No reply. Not for a long time. Then— Elijah: “Someone I should have let go a long time ago.” That was all Elijah said. No explanation. No promise. No apology. Catherine stared at her phone long after the screen dimmed. The words echoed like a hallway in her chest — empty, unfinished. She tossed the phone onto the bed and climbed under the covers, but sleep didn’t come. Instead, her mind kept circling the memory of his fingers brushing her jaw, his lips just inches from hers. The way her heart had stuttered — like it wanted to leap straight into his hands. And then her. Talia. Soaked, gorgeous, smug. Not an ex. Not a stranger. Someone he should’ve let go. Which meant he hadn’t. The next morning, Catherine walked into the city’s most exclusive brunch spot wearing oversized sunglasses and a mood as black as her coffee. She was halfway through her croissant when she heard his voice. “I was hoping I’d see you here.” James Carter. Perfectly pressed navy blazer. That effortless smile. The boy her parents adored. The man she didn’t want… until now, when wanting anyone but Elijah felt like a survival strategy. She blinked up at him. “Morning.” He tilted his head, watching her a moment. “Mind if I join you?” She hesitated. Then nodded. Ten minutes in, James had her laughing. Fifteen, and she remembered why she’d almost agreed to date him once: he was safe. Elegant. Predictable. “Come to the fundraiser Friday?” he asked. “I’ll be speaking.” Catherine sipped her drink slowly. “Maybe.” “You know your parents would be thrilled.” “Now there’s a reason to sprint in the other direction.” He chuckled, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes — sharper than usual. “You’re different this morning,” he said, gentler now. “Like someone ran over your heart and reversed twice.” She didn’t answer. He leaned forward. “Who is he?” She blinked. “What makes you think there’s a he?” “Because if it were a woman, I’d be slightly more worried.” She laughed, but it was hollow. Then, quietly, “I don’t know who he is anymore.” Outside, an hour later… She was unlocking her car when she heard it. “Elijah?” she said, stunned. He stood beside the sidewalk, hood up, hands in his pockets. Wet again. Like the weather matched his timing. “You followed me?” “No. Well. Kind of.” She crossed her arms. “I needed to see you,” he said. “You had your chance last night.” “I didn’t ask for her to come.” “But she came anyway. That says a lot, doesn’t it?” “I ended things with her a long time ago.” “Yet she walks into your home like she still belongs.” “She doesn’t,” he said quickly. “Not in any of the ways that matter.” She looked at him. “You lied to me.” His jaw clenched. “Not about that.” “Not yet, you mean.” They stood in silence as wind whipped between them, cars humming past like none of it mattered. “I don’t know what this is,” she said finally. “But I’m not in the mood to audition for your attention.” “You’re not a backup plan, Catherine.” Her heart cracked at the way he said her name — like it physically hurt to let it go. “I need to know you’re not lying to me.” He looked down. She waited. He said nothing. And that, somehow, was worse than if he’d spoken. Later that night Catherine stood in front of her mirror, applying makeup for James’ fundraiser. She didn’t want to go. But she couldn’t stay in limbo. Not between a man who held back and a man who’d never ask her to. Her phone buzzed on the counter. Elijah: “I’ll tell you everything. Just… not like this. Not in a parking lot. Not when you already want to run.” She stared at the message. Typed: “Then when?” No reply. This time, she didn’t wait. She grabbed her purse and walked out the door.Catherine hadn’t cried when she left Elijah’s suite.Not on the ride home.Not when she walked past James and her parents like they were air.Not even when her mother called after her with a sharp, “You missed your future this morning.”But now, alone in her room with the door locked and her phone facedown, the silence was too heavy to carry.She sank onto her bed, knees curled, the city lights painting her ceiling with flickers of silver and gold. They looked like stars — and she hated them for it.Because Elijah had once told her she made the stars feel close.And now?Now, even his name was a lie.⸻He said he was Elijah Carsen.Not Elijah Miles Blakes.He’d told her about the girl he was supposed to marry — how it was a family decision he didn’t want. He even said he left that life behind. It was emotional. Vulnerable. Honest enough to hurt — but vague enough to control the damage.She had looked into his eyes that night and believed him. Held his secrets like fragile glass and pr
The silence in her parents’ penthouse was never just silence.It was performance. It was tension dressed in crystal and marble. And as Catherine walked in—coat still clinging to her skin like memory—she could feel it all pressing down on her.Her mother was waiting in the living room. Perfectly still. Not a hair out of place.“You’re late,” she said, not looking up from her tablet. “And you missed brunch with the Carters.”Catherine didn’t respond. She walked past her, toward the hallway. But before she could escape, her father’s voice called out from the dining room.“Catherine. Sit.”She froze.The chair was already pulled out for her, like this was a board meeting she hadn’t asked to attend. James was sitting at the head of the table, dressed in a pale grey suit and a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.“Lovely to see you,” he said casually, swirling wine in a glass like he lived there.Catherine sat. Slowly. Her heart hadn’t stopped thudding since she left Elijah’s place.
“Were you ever going to tell me you were supposed to marry her?”Her voice cracked just slightly at the end, but she stood tall in his suite, bathed in the golden hush of the early morning sun. Catherine looked like a question he didn’t deserve to answer — elegant, wounded, and furious in the kind of quiet way that made it worse.Elijah didn’t move. Didn’t speak.The question sliced through him with surgical precision.“I need the truth,” she added, her voice low now. “Not the gentle version. Not the one you tell yourself to sleep better at night.”He finally looked at her. “I didn’t sleep at all.”“Then start talking.”He let out a breath and sat down slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. The rich silence between them stretched — tense, loaded, raw.“You want the truth?” he murmured. “Fine.”She crossed her arms but said nothing.“I was supposed to marry her. Years ago. My name was printed on gold-foil invitations before I ever had the chance to speak up. I was born into it. Groom
The ride home was a blur. Catherine couldn’t remember the roads she took, or how many red lights she might’ve run. Her hands stayed clenched around the wheel, knuckles white, jaw locked so tight it ached.She had said she needed more than love.She just hadn’t expected less than truth.By the time she reached the quiet luxury of her family’s penthouse, morning light was already spilling across the horizon. The city was waking. She was unraveling.She dropped her heels by the door and headed straight for the living room, tossing her coat aside and reaching for her laptop. She didn’t know what she was looking for exactly—only that she couldn’t sit still, not when her head was screaming with questions.What did Elijah mean by “the board”?Who was he talking to?And who the hell was he supposed to marry?She started with what she knew.Blake Holdings.She typed the name into the private database her father paid ridiculous money to maintain access to. It didn’t take long to find the busine
Catherine woke up to warmth— Elijah’s arm draped strongly around her waist, paying close attention to his heartbeat, the morning sun spilling across tangled sheets that smelled like sweat, skin, love and sin.For a moment, time froze, along side her body. She didn’t move, she didn’t want to. This felt like peace. Like a Future. Like maybe love could survive being lied to. But then she blinked herself into reality and remembered everything. James’s mouth on her neck. The sound of Elijah’s voice breaking. Talia’s eyes flashing like warning lights in the dark. She turned slowly, careful not to wake him. But he was already awake, watching her.“You always look like that in the morning?” He asked quietly, his voice a bit raspy. She blinked. “Like what?”“Like you’re planning your escape.”Catherine sat up, pulling the blanket to her chest. “Should I be?”He flinched at that — the kind of flinch a man makes when he knows he still owes the truth.“I didn’t expect last night to happen,
Catherine didn’t sleep.Not really.She closed her eyes, but her body pulsed with guilt—and longing. The guilt belonged to James. The longing? That part hadn’t moved. It was still tethered to Elijah.It wasn’t just what happened.It was how she let it.How she’d wanted to forget.But Elijah’s voice, his eyes, the way he said her name—none of it left her. Not even in the arms of someone else.She sat on her balcony as the sun cracked open the sky. The cool breeze kissed her bare shoulders. She hadn’t changed from the dress she wore last night. A shameful echo of all the ways she’d tried to erase him.The gate buzzed.Her heart jumped.She didn’t check. She didn’t have to.She opened the door before he could knock.Elijah stood there, face shadowed, eyes bloodshot.They stared at each other.No words. Just… gravity.He stepped inside. She didn’t stop him.“I saw you,” he said finally. “Last night.”Catherine swallowed, her chest tightening. “I know.”He looked like it physically pained