When Mason Became Caspian

LYRA'S POV 

I stood across the street from Clarence Holdings, my heart pounding so loud it drowned out the noise of the city. The morning sun glinted off the towering glass building like it had something to prove, untouchable, glossy, perfect... Just like him.

My fingers clenched the glossy magazine in my hand, the cover already crumpled from how tightly I have been holding it. Forbes, April edition and right there, beneath the bold headline "THE ENIGMA OF CASPIAN CLARENCE", was a face I would never, ever forget.

"Mason." I whispered, the name tasting like a ghost on my tongue. "It’s you, I know it’s you."

He was supposed to be dead or missing or something in between. I prayed day and night for him to be alive and for me to see him again but no one had answers, not the police, not the people at the company he was contracted to work for, no one. He had gone on a business trip a year ago and vanished. One day he was mine, my fiancé, and the next… just gone, no goodbye, no closure... Just a void.

And then last week, out of nowhere, he appeared on every newsstand in Manchester, England. Only now he wasn’t Mason Fabian, the man I had once kissed under flickering streetlamps and shared ramen with on stormy nights. He was Caspian Clarence, tech tycoon, media darling, billionaire, but I knew better.

I stepped forward, crossing the street like a woman walking toward her fate. The magazine trembled in my hand, but my spine stayed straight.

The moment I entered the building, the air changed. It's cooler, more sterile, laced with power and everything smelled like expensive cologne and ambition. A sleek receptionist sat behind a marble desk, typing with long, manicured fingers. She barely looked up.

"I will like to see Mason Fabian." I said.

She paused, blinked, then looked at me like I had asked for a unicorn.

"I’m sorry. Who?"

"Mason Fabian." I repeated before it clicked that he no longer go by Mason. "Sorry, I mean... Caspian Clarence." Understanding flickered in her eyes. I saw the polite smile stretch her lips, polite, but wary.

"And do you have an appointment, Miss…?"

"Logan," I said quickly. "Lyra Logan, I’m his fiancée."

Her brows arched, and for a moment, the only sound was the quiet tapping of her nails against the desk. Her perfectly polished exterior cracked just a little.

"His… fiancée?"

"Yes." I stood taller. "We were engaged before he disappeared a year ago. I know it sounds unbelievable, but I’m not mistaken."

She blinked rapidly, clearly unsure if she should call security or HR but finally, she reached for the sleek black phone beside her and pressed a button.

"There’s a woman here… she says her name is Lyra Logan. Claims to be your fiancée." My breath caught, my nails dug into the spine of the magazine.

I paused, and waited impatiently for her to finish the call. Then she hung up and gave me a tight-lipped smile.

"Mr. Clarence says he’s in a meeting and cannot receive visitors at this time."

I swallowed hard. "He really said that?"

"He did, I’m sorry."

No, something isn't right, did he forget me? Or is he's avoiding me? There has to be an explanation for this, there has to be a reason he decided to stay here instead of coming for me.

I turned around and walked out without another word but I didn’t go far. I found a quiet corner of the parking lot and waited. Minutes ticked by, then an hour. My legs ached from standing, but I couldn’t leave. I have waited a year for answers, I will wait for as long as it takes.

Finally, just past noon, the tinted doors of the building swung open. There he was, taller than I remember, sharper, dressed in a navy blue suit that looked like it cost more than my rent for a year. His dark hair was slicked back now, his jaw more angular, as if life had carved the softness out of him, but it was still him. My Mason.

He laughed at something his companion said, a handsome man in grey suit with an easy stride, and my heart twisted at the sound. I had dreamed of that laugh, I had woken up crying because I couldn’t hear it anymore.

I stepped into their path. "Mason."

He looked up, confusion flickered in his eyes, followed by that polite, dismissive smile he probably wore for fans and socialites.

"I’m sorry," He said, already trying to sidestep me. "I don’t give autographs..."

"Mason," I said again, firmer. "It’s me, Lyra."

That caught him, he stopped moving. His companion slowed, eyeing me warily.

"I… think you have mistaken me for someone else," He said. "My name is Caspian Clarence."

"No," I said, stepping in front of him again. I can hear my voice trembling. "I don’t care what name you go by now, I know who you are. You are Mason Fabian, my fiancé."

He stiffened, I saw his eyes darken with something between confusion and discomfort.

"Look, Miss... Lyra, is it?" I nodded immediately. "I’m afraid I don’t know you."

"Yes, you do," I whispered. "You are either pretending not to know me or maybe you just don’t remember me, but I remember everything. You had a scar on your left knee from when you fell off your bike in high school, you hate mushrooms, you always hummed under your breath when you were nervous, you proposed to me with a cheap ring in Central Park because you said you couldn’t wait another day."

The man beside him... His friend I guess, stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Maybe we should call someone, security or..."

"No." Caspian held up a hand, while still staring at me.

He didn’t look afraid, he looked unsettled, and that was something. I reached into my bag and pulled out the magazine, unfolding the page I had bookmarked.

"This," I said, "is your face but it’s not your life. You disappeared a year ago, everyone thought you were gone, dead, missing but you are here. You just don’t remember, I don’t know what happened to you, but I swear to you, you are him. You are my Mason."

The silence between us thickened, his eyes dropped to the magazine page, staring at his own image like he was trying to see something deeper.

"I’m sorry," He said finally but softer this time. "I’m not the man you are looking for."

He turned away and this time, I let him walk but not far.

"Then how do you explain this?" I called after him.

He paused without turning.

I pulled out a small, silver locket from my purse, the one he gave me two weeks before the trip that stole him from me. I flipped it open... Inside, our picture, a younger Mason, arms around me, smiling with a love that couldn’t be faked.

"I have proof," I said, my voice cracking. "And I’m not leaving until you see it."

He turned and for the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes. Confusion? Curiosity? Panic? Pain? I didn’t know which one for sure but I knew I had his attention now.