CHAPTER 14: Coldest distance.

NATASHA'S POV

NATASHA — SAME MORNING, 10:37 AM

The line went dead.

At first, I just stared at my phone like it had betrayed me. I stood there, blinking, lips slightly parted, mind blank.

Did he really just... hang up on me?

Michael. Hung up. On me.

It took a few seconds for it to register, to sink in. And when it did? The disbelief hit like a slap to the face.

My thumb hovered over the screen, waiting. Maybe he’d call back. Maybe he’d say it was a mistake, that he was in a tunnel or lost signal. Maybe he’d apologize.

Say he didn’t mean to sound so cold.

But nothing came.

Silence.

The kind of silence that screams. That makes your ears ring.

My chest tightened, the ache spreading like cold water over my skin. My heart did something I wasn’t used to, it skipped. But not from nerves or excitement.

No, this one hurt. Like something sharp had carved through me without warning.

Three years ago, Michael would’ve waited hours just to catch a glimpse of me through a crowd. He would’ve crossed oceans if I asked, would’ve picked a fight with God if I cried.

He once told me I was his gravity, his compass, his calm.

Back then, all it took was a look from me and the man would lose his mind.

And now? Now he hung up on me like I was a telemarketer.

I laughed.

A small, bitter, hollow laugh that felt unfamiliar in my mouth. “Damn... people really do change.”

He’d changed. Grown sharp. Distant. Unbothered. He didn’t beg. Didn’t ask why I called. Didn’t even flinch.

And the worst part? It rattled me.

Because Michael was supposed to need me.

I turned away from the window, arms crossed tight over my chest. The villa was quiet, too quiet. I could hear the hum of the AC and the distant clink of cutlery downstairs. But everything inside me was loud, my thoughts, my regrets, my bruised ego.

No one ignores me.

No one moves on from me.

Especially not Michael. I am Natasha Rose Dunlop.

The girl people rearranged their lives to be around. The name whispered in jealousy, typed in headlines, screamed by fans across continents. The girl everyone wants to know, wants to touch, wants to be.

So if he forgot?

I’d remind him.

A FEW HOURS LATER — MY VILLA, LAGOS

“I beg your pardon?” Nina’s voice cracked as she nearly dropped her coffee. “You’re leaving? You’re flying back to New York?”

I didn’t respond immediately. I was busy folding a red silk dress into my suitcase, smoothing it out like it mattered. “Yes. My flight leaves tonight.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you actually cancelling your entire African tour?”

I shrugged. “It’s postponed.”

“Postponed?! Girl, it’s sold out! People are camping outside venues days before the shows! You’re trending in five countries, Natasha!”

“I didn’t say forever,” I murmured, still not meeting her eyes. “I just need a break. A reset.”

Nina slammed her coffee down. “You said you loved it here!”

“I do,” I replied calmly. “I love the food, the people, the energy. But I miss my rhythm. My parents. My space. My bed. I miss home.”

She stared at me like I was losing my mind. “You’ve been gone for a year, and now you suddenly miss your bed? You’re not homesick, Natasha. You’re heart-sick.”

I froze for a moment, her words hitting too close.

She stepped closer. “I saw the way you looked after that call. You were shaking. Don’t lie.”

I finally turned to her, my tone sharp. “So what if I was?”

“Then just say it!” she snapped. “Say it’s about him. Say it’s about Michael. You’re flying across the world to chase a man who’s married.”

“I’m not chasing him,” I hissed. “I’m just going home.”

She crossed her arms. “You never run unless there’s something you’re afraid to face. And right now, it’s not your career you’re scared of, it’s being irrelevant to him.”

I looked away.

“He moved on, Natasha. He found someone else. You left him. You broke him. And now that he doesn’t fall at your feet, you’re unraveling.”

My chest burned. “Maybe I regret it. Maybe I want to see if anything’s left of us.”

She scoffed. “There’s nothing left. Just ashes. You think he’s sitting around waiting for your grand return? He got married, Nat. He built a life that doesn’t include you.”

I exhaled, jaw tight. “I’m not going to beg him to take me back. I just need to go back to where it all started."

“No,” she said, voice low. “You need to win. You need to prove that no matter how far he’s moved on, you’re still the girl he’ll never forget.”

I didn’t deny it. Because maybe, just maybe… she was right.

I turned back to the suitcase and zipped it closed. “I don’t need your permission.”

Nina threw her hands up. “You never do. But just remember, when you land in New York, don’t confuse your name for immunity. People move on. Even from you.”

“Don’t worry,” I said coldly, slipping on my sunglasses. “I don’t plan to be forgotten.”

She shook her head. “God help that city. You’re the most reckless celebrity and the worst damn friend.”

I didn’t even flinch.

Because it wasn't even about Michael, I actually missed my mom.

LATER THAT NIGHT — 11:52 PM

The wind swept across the helipad, catching the edges of my coat as I stood, arms folded, watching the pilot prepare for takeoff.

My luggage was already packed and loaded. The blades above spun faster, the noise humming like an approaching storm.

I didn’t tell the press. Didn’t announce it online. No farewell post. No airport paparazzi.

This wasn’t for the cameras.

It was for me.

Nina hadn’t messaged. Not even a goodbye. But I wasn’t surprised. She was hurt, sure. But she’d get over it.

I was going home.

To the city that built me. To the parents I’d missed. To my rhythm. My silence. My version of peace.

And maybe…

To remind one man and everyone else, why you never replace Natasha Rose Dunlop.

To remind Michael that I’m not just the one who got away.

I’m the one he should’ve fought for.

I tied my hair into a tight ponytail, like I was gearing up for battle. I climbed into the chopper and settled in, wrapping my coat tighter around my body.

And yet…

As the engine roared to life and the helicopter lifted slowly into the night sky, I stared out at the city lights below and for the first time all day, I hesitated.

What if I was making a mistake?

What if going back meant losing everything I had worked so hard to build?

Would the world still remember me after this?

Would they wait?

Would they care?

I swallowed hard.

No. I couldn’t think like that. I was Natasha. Daughter of Henry Dunlop. His name alone held weight in every boardroom, every ballroom. My name meant something.

I’d built empires out of charm and chaos.

So I brushed off the fear.

New York wouldn’t know what hit it.