The Past Replayed

The sound of rain fills the room soft but relentless, like a thousand tiny memories tapping at the windows.

Maya sits at her desk, staring blankly at her laptop screen, but she hasn’t typed a single word in twenty minutes.

Her mind isn’t in the office.

It’s five years away in another city, another life, another version of herself.

Five years earlier.

The rain had been heavy that night too.

She remembered the way it streaked against the glass walls of Ethan’s tall, cold, perfect penthouse, just like everything in his world.

She had been standing by the door, her suitcase half-zipped, her heart breaking with every second that passed.

“Maya, don’t do this,” Ethan had said, his voice low, almost broken.

He was still in his suit from the meeting that had lasted too long. He looked exhausted but mostly angry. Angry because she had stopped waiting for him to change.

“I can’t keep doing this, Ethan,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t keep pretending I fit into your world.”

His jaw tightened. “You do fit in. You’re just scared.”

“Scared?” she repeated, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You think this is fear? This is exhaustion, Ethan. I barely see you anymore. You’re married to your company, not me.”

He stepped closer. “Everything I do, I do for us.”

“No,” she said softly, meeting his eyes. “You do it for control. You do it so you don’t have to feel out of control with me.”

His silence said everything.

Maya swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ve spent two years waiting for you to remember how to be present. For you to look at me and actually see me again.”

Ethan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m doing the best I can, Maya. You knew what kind of man I was when we met.”

“I did,” she whispered. “But I thought love would change that.”

He looked up then, eyes full of frustration but beneath it, pain. “And you’re giving up now?”

She shook her head. “I’m saving myself before there’s nothing left to save.”

She had expected him to argue. To pull her close. To fight for her.

But instead, he turned away just slightly, just enough for her to know that he wouldn’t stop her this time.

And that hurt more than anything else.

“Maya,” he said finally, his voice quiet, heavy. “If you walk out that door, don’t expect me to follow.”

Her hand tightened on the suitcase handle. “I won’t,” she said, though her heart begged him to prove her wrong.

She opened the door.

Stepped into the rain.

And didn’t look back.

Present day.

The memory fades, but the ache remains.

Maya blinks, forcing herself back into the present the neat office, the muted hum of computers, the faint scent of coffee from the break room.

But it feels wrong, because her heart is still somewhere in that rain-soaked night.

Her phone buzzes.

A message from Ethan’s assistant:

> Mr. Blake requests your presence in his office.

Her stomach twists. Again?

She gathers her courage and heads upstairs.

Ethan’s office feels colder today. Or maybe it’s her.

He’s standing behind his desk, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. When she enters, his eyes flicker toward her and something passes between them. Recognition. Memory. The echo of everything they never said.

“Sit,” he says simply.

She obeys, setting her folder on the desk.

“I’ve reviewed your campaign proposal,” he begins, his tone clipped. “It’s… ambitious.”

Maya’s pulse jumps. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”

He arches a brow. “Both.”

Their eyes meet again, and for a fleeting second, something vulnerable flashes in his.

It’s gone almost immediately, replaced by his usual controlled calm.

“Do you ever regret it?” he asks suddenly.

She blinks. “Regret what?”

“Walking away.”

The question hits her like a slap. Her throat tightens. “You’re crossing a line, Mr. Blake.”

He smiles faintly. “Maybe. But you didn’t answer.”

She rises from her chair, trying to steady her breathing. “It’s not relevant to work.”

He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Everything about you is relevant to me.”

Her heart stutters. “Ethan”

“Don’t,” he says quietly, his eyes darkening. “Don’t say my name like that unless you still mean it.”

Her lips part but no words come. Because she does mean it. Too much.

The silence between them hums with electricity, the same dangerous pull that destroyed them before.

She finally exhales. “You’re not being fair.”

“Fair?” His laugh is low, bitter. “You think fairness mattered when you left without telling me why?”

Maya looks away, blinking rapidly. “It wasn’t that simple.”

“Then make it simple for me now.”

She shakes her head, stepping back. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Her voice cracks when she says, “You had no room for love, Ethan. You barely had room for me. I couldn’t raise a child in that world.”

He freezes. “What?”

Her breath catches. She hadn’t meant to say that not that.

“I meant” she stammers, backing toward the door. “I meant I couldn’t build a life with someone who didn’t believe in us.”

He studies her face closely, but she drops her gaze, hiding the panic rising in her chest.

“Get back to work,” he says at last, his tone unreadable. “We have deadlines to meet.”

She nods quickly and leaves before he can see the tears threatening to fall.

Back at her desk, Maya collapses into her chair, burying her face in her hands.

That was too close. Way too close.

Her secret the one she’s guarded for five long years almost slipped through her lips.

If Ethan ever found out about her son… about their son… she didn’t know what he would do.

Would he hate her?

Would he fight for him?

Would he forgive her?

She shakes her head, pushing the thought away. It doesn’t matter. She’s not here to reopen wounds. She’s here to rebuild her life.

Later that night

Ethan sits in his dark office, the city lights reflecting in the glass behind him. He’s staring at the same campaign file he’s read five times, but none of the words stick.

All he can think about is her voice — the way it trembled when she said child.

A child?

No. He’s imagining things.

Still, something about her reaction won’t leave him alone.

He rises, walking to the window. Outside, the rain has started again just like that night.

He can still see her leaving. The suitcase. The tears. The silence.

And the haunting question that’s been eating at him for five years: Why didn’t she fight for them?

Now he wonders if she had been fighting for something else entirely.

Something or someone he never knew existed.

Back home, across the city

Maya tiptoes into her small apartment, exhausted.

A small voice greets her. “Mommy!”

Her son, Liam, runs into her arms, a small boy with dark hair and deep brown eyes that mirror Ethan’s perfectly.

Maya kneels, hugging him tightly, breathing in the scent of shampoo and innocence.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she whispers, her heart softening instantly. “Were you good for Aunt Lily?”

He nods, grinning proudly. “I drew something for you.”

He runs to the table and grabs a crayon drawing of stick figures under a rainbow. A woman, a little boy… and a tall man with brown hair.

Maya freezes. “Who’s this?” she asks gently.

Liam smiles. “That’s Daddy. He’s in the sky, right?”

Her throat closes. She can’t lie anymore, but she can’t tell the truth either. Not yet.

“Maybe one day,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He giggles and runs off toward his toys, leaving her sitting there with tears in her eyes.

She looks at the drawing again.

The man in crayon has the same sharp jawline. The same soft smile Ethan used to give her.

No matter how far she’s run, the past keeps finding its way back through boardrooms, through memories, and now, through the innocent hands of a child who doesn’t even know the truth.