Chapter 1: Her Burning Desire

Emma’s POV

“You’re not leaving.”

My mother’s voice trembled, but her words were firm.

“I’m leaving,” I shot back. “That’s my decision. I’m not a child anymore. I’m twenty-three.”

Silence pressed down on the room.

I turned to my dad. His disappointed stare hit harder than a slap. My chest tightened. The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Do you even love me at all?”

“Emma!” my dad thundered. “How could you say that? You know we love you.”

“Then why won’t you let me go?”

“We can’t just let you move back to New York after what happened two years ago,” he said, voice rising. “What parent would willingly send their child back to the country that almost destroyed her?”

The memory burned sharp and unwelcome.

“That won’t happen again,” I said quickly. “I was naïve then. I trusted the wrong people. I’m not that girl anymore.”

“You’re not leaving. And that’s final.”

Tears stung my eyes. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I’m leaving. That’s final. I make my own decisions now.” I stormed upstairs, slamming my bedroom door. My father called my name, but I didn’t stop.

The evening breeze slipped through my open window, cooling my heated skin. Guilt crawled in.I’d never spoken to them like that before.But they needed to understand.

This wasn’t rebellion. It was survival.“I really want this,” I whispered. “Why is my heart so soft?”

My phone rang. It was Lila. A smile curved my lips.

“Hello?" Her scream nearly burst my eardrum.

“Emma! Do you ever check your phone? I’ve been calling you!”

I winced. Four missed calls.“Sorry, bestie. I was talking to Mom and Dad my phone was in my room.”

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Bad,” I admitted. “I spoke to them rudely, Lila. I’ve never done that before. It hurts.”

“Babe, calm down. You were angry. It’s understandable. They’re scared. But you need to talk properly tomorrow.”

“I feel like I’m the one always running, Lila. I was the victim. I left New York because I had to. But I’m done running. I just want to chase my dream. My desire. Is that too much to ask?”

“You’re not running,” she said softly. “In the past two years, you rebuilt yourself. You healed. And your career is waiting there in New York. I’ll always support you, Emma. Always.”

Her words lifted a weight off my chest.“What would I do without you?” I smiled.

“Nothing. You’re nothing without me. I’m not a prophet,” she continued, “but things will change tomorrow. Just fix it calmly. Speak like the strong woman you are.”

“Yes, big sis,” I teased.

“Yes, I’m.”

“I’m not dragging it with you.”

We laughed again and said goodnight.The room fell silent. Tomorrow. Everything depended on tomorrow.“God, be with me,” I whispered as sleep pulled me under.

***

Sunlight brushed softly against my curtains.I opened my eyes, mind already racing.Dragging myself into the bathroom, I stared at my reflection.“You look like a zombie,” I muttered.

The argument replayed in my head. I needed to fix this.After my shower, I walked back into my room with a towel wrapped around my hair. My mom sat on my bed, smiling softly.

“Good morning,” I said.

She gestured for me to sit. I obeyed. She took the towel and began drying my hair like she used to when I was younger.Silence stretched between us.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I spoke badly yesterday.”She stopped, turned me to face her.

“We want your happiness, Emma,” she said quietly. “We’re just afraid. What happened two years ago… it broke us too. We know you’re strong. We’re not doubting you. We just want you safe.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promised.

She nodded, then stood. “Breakfast is ready.” Downstairs, Dad read the newspaper as usual.

“Good morning, Dad.”

“Good morning, Emma.”

"Dad…” I swallowed. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”He folded the newspaper and looked at me. Silence stretched.

“You can go,” he said.

I froze. “I… what?”

“You can go back to New York.”

I stared, disbelief rooting me to the floor. Mom nodded. I ran to them, hugging them tightly. “I love you both!”

“But on one condition,” Dad said.

“Anything.”

“You won’t live alone. You’ll stay with Lila.”

“That’s not a problem!” I cheered. “I’ll stay with Lila!” A smile broke across his face.

“Table manners,” Mom warned.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dad and I said together. Which made us laughed.

After breakfast, I sent Lila a voice note. She immediately video-called.

“Girl! Tell me!”

“They agreed.”

She screamed. “I can’t wait to have you back,” she said, voice trembling.

“I missed you too.” After the call ended, I stood in front of the mirror. New York. The city that broke me. The city that built me. “I’m coming back,” I whispered. This time, I wasn’t the broken girl who ran away. I was the woman who survived.

If New York tried to destroy me again… I wouldn’t be the one losing.

***

Alexander’s POV

“Mr. Parker, is this a draft of the project or the actual project?” My voice echoed across the meeting room. “You want to present this to the client? Are you serious, Mr. Parker?”

Silence...

“Is this satisfactory to anyone here?” I asked, scanning the board members. No one spoke. They all knew it wasn’t even half of what the client demanded.

“When is the deadline?” I turned to my executive assistant, Mr. Foster.

“Next Wednesday, sir.”

“And how exactly do you plan to fix this before then?” I asked Parker.

“I will fix it before Wednesday, sir,” he said, forcing confidence as he met my eyes.

“You have until Monday,” I said calmly. Too calmly. “Any more mistakes… you know the consequences.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Foster, reschedule this meeting for Monday.” I turned and walked out. Authority doesn’t need shouting. Results speak louder.

Back in my office, I buried myself in work. Some call it obsession. I call it standards. I don’t tolerate mediocrity...not in business, not in life.

Hours slipped by. Files stacked. Emails poured in. By the time I glanced at my watch, it was 9 PM.

I stepped into the car. “Paul, lower the music. My head hurts.”

“Yes, sir.”

The city lights of New York flickered past. The streets where empires are built… and secrets buried. Then we passed that street. And just like that… she was there again. Not physically. But in my mind. Dancing under the streetlights. Long hair flowing with the rhythm. Skin glowing softly. Her laughter...light, free, unforgettable.

The way she smiled at the little kids, helped an old woman cross the street, lived fully as if the world had never hurt her. I didn’t approach her. I snapped a picture. Just one. From a distance.

I didn’t know why. It wasn’t love. At least, that’s what I told myself. But whatever it was… it was the one thing I couldn’t control. And I hate losing control. She was the only woman who ever walked away from me without even trying. No trace. I only managed to get her name. And then she disappeared. I searched. Investigated. Waited. Nothing. The only proof she existed was that picture on my phone.

My jaw tightened.

“When I see you again…” I muttered, fingers curling into a fist. “I won’t let you go. You will be mine, Emma Johnson.” Her name felt unreal on my tongue. Two years. Two long years. Yet she remains vivid in my mind.

The car slowed at a red light. I stared out, unaware that somewhere in this city… fate was already moving. Somewhere close. Closer than I imagined. What I didn’t know...the girl who disappeared without a trace… was no longer out of reach.

Will she recognize me? Will she remember that night the way I do?

I only saw her. She never saw me. To her, I’m nothing. Even if she stands in front of me right now, I’m nothing but a stranger to her somehow… that hurts more than losing her.