Pull Between Us

Adrian stared at the skyline through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of his office, the city glinting beneath a pale afternoon sun. Cars glided along the streets below, distant and insignificant, yet his mind wasn’t on the deals stacked on his desk or the proposal waiting for his approval.

He was thinking about her.

Elena Hart.

And the little girl with his eyes.

He set his pen down, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He’d tried to focus on work all morning, but every time he blinked, he saw the same image — the child’s curls bouncing as she painted, the way her face lit up when she smiled.

There was something about her that tugged at a part of him he hadn’t realized was still alive. Something that didn’t make sense.

“Mr. Blackwood?”

Adrian looked up as his assistant, Travis, stepped in. “The legal team is waiting for your review on the Devonshire contract.”

Adrian nodded absently. “Leave it there. I’ll get to it.”

Travis hesitated, then asked, “Is everything alright, sir?”

Adrian leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “Just… thinking.”

Travis smiled politely. “About business or something else?”

Adrian gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “Isn’t it always about business?”

But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.

Elena’s day was quieter — at least on the surface.

The classroom buzzed with laughter and the faint scent of glue sticks and crayons. She sat at her desk, sorting through a pile of papers, pretending her hands weren’t trembling every time she saw Aria’s drawing — that drawing — peeking from under the stack.

The one where Adrian stood next to her and Aria. Like he belonged there.

“Elena.”

She looked up to find Lydia, her best friend and fellow teacher, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and an amused smile playing on her lips.

“You’ve been staring at the same paper for ten minutes,” Lydia said. “Don’t tell me you’re grading invisible essays again.”

Elena rolled her eyes, setting the papers aside. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” Lydia teased. “Or should I say who?”

Elena sighed, rubbing her temples. “Lydia—”

“Oh, don’t you ‘Lydia’ me. I heard he was at the school again this morning. The Adrian Blackwood. Billionaire, philanthropist, sinfully good-looking—”

“Stop,” Elena said, shaking her head with a small laugh. “He’s just… doing business here. That’s all.”

“Right,” Lydia said, dragging the word out. “And the sun just happened to rise in the east.”

Elena smiled faintly, then fell silent. Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup absently. “It’s been years, Lydia. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

Lydia arched a brow. “You sure about that?”

Elena looked down. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

Later that afternoon, she opened her laptop to check her email — and froze.

Subject: Proposal for Art Program Partnership

From: Adrian Blackwood

Her stomach twisted.

He’d written a short, formal message — polite, professional, and impossible to ignore. He wanted to fund a new art initiative for the school and requested a meeting with the “lead instructor overseeing the primary program.”

Her.

She read the email twice, then pushed the laptop slightly away, staring blankly at the wall.

Was this business… or something else?

“Mommy?”

She blinked and turned to see Aria holding a crayon-streaked paper. “Can I show you my new drawing?”

Elena smiled softly, setting the laptop aside. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Aria climbed onto her lap, holding up her picture proudly. “It’s you and me again. But this time, I drew a puppy.”

Elena chuckled, smoothing her daughter’s curls. “It’s beautiful.”

As Aria talked excitedly about her colors, Elena let her mind drift. Adrian’s voice still echoed faintly in her memory — calm, deep, familiar. The years hadn’t erased the way it once made her heart race.

And yet, she’d built her world to stay safe from exactly that kind of storm.

The next morning, Adrian arrived at the school earlier than scheduled. The halls were still quiet, the hum of the heater filling the air.

He’d told himself this was about business — about giving back, building programs that mattered — but when he walked through those doors, he wasn’t thinking about philanthropy.

He was thinking about her.

He found her in the art room, bent over a table, carefully labeling jars of paint. The light caught the curve of her face, the faint strand of hair that escaped her bun. She looked… peaceful.

He cleared his throat gently. “Miss Hart?”

Elena turned, startled, nearly dropping a brush. “Mr. Blackwood. You’re—early.”

He smiled slightly. “Bad habit.”

She nodded, setting the brush down. “I wasn’t expecting you yet. I thought the meeting was for ten.”

“I was in the area,” he said, lying just a little.

Elena gestured toward a chair. “You can sit, if you’d like.”

Adrian took the seat across from her, glancing around the colorful room. “It’s… different. Calmer than I expected.”

“It’s where I spend most of my time,” she said quietly.

“I can see why,” he replied, his gaze drifting back to her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick, full of the things they weren’t saying.

Adrian leaned forward slightly. “I appreciate you meeting with me. I’d like to sponsor an art program here — something ongoing. Materials, exhibitions, maybe a small annual competition.”

Elena nodded, grateful for the chance to focus on something practical. “That would be wonderful. The children would love it.”

He smiled faintly. “Especially your daughter, I imagine.”

Her heart skipped. “Yes… she would.”

“She’s quite special,” he said softly. “You must be proud.”

“I am,” Elena whispered, her throat tight. “More than anything.”

Their eyes met, and for a second, time stilled. There was history there — heavy and unspoken.

Adrian glanced down at the folder between them, flipping it open. Their hands brushed as they reached for the same page, and both froze.

Elena felt warmth shoot through her, memories flooding back — his touch, his laugh, the way he once traced his thumb along her wrist when he thought no one was looking.

He noticed the flicker in her eyes, the same hesitation that mirrored his own.

Adrian cleared his throat, sitting back. “You seem familiar,” he said quietly. “Are you sure we haven't met before?”

Elena’s heart thudded painfully. “I don’t think so,” she lied. “I’m sure I’d remember.”

He studied her face for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “Maybe you’re right.”

When the meeting ended, she walked him out.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hart,” he said, extending his hand.

Elena hesitated before shaking it. His palm was warm — too familiar.

“Of course,” she murmured. “Thank you for your generosity.”

As he turned to leave, a burst of laughter echoed down the hall — Aria running toward her, paint on her fingers, her curls bouncing wildly.

Adrian paused, turning at the sound. The little girl threw her arms around Elena’s legs, grinning.

“Mommy, I made another drawing!”

Elena froze. Adrian’s gaze lingered on them — the closeness, the easy affection. Something in his chest stirred painfully.

He smiled at Aria, gentle but curious. “You again.”

Aria beamed. “Hi, Mr. Blackwood!”

He crouched slightly. “What are you drawing this time?”

“A surprise,” she whispered dramatically. “You’ll see.”

Adrian chuckled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

As he straightened, his eyes met Elena’s again. This time, there was something new in his expression — not just curiosity, but confusion… and maybe realization beginning to form.

He gave a polite nod and walked toward the exit.

Elena watched him go, her pulse racing.

And when the door finally closed behind him, she whispered under her breath —

“Please don’t remember me.”