(Six months later)
All my life, I’ve lived by other people’s expectations.
My parents’.
My boyfriend’s.
Then my sister’s.
I tried to find happiness between trying to live up to their demands, convincing myself along the way it was what I desired as well. I’m always putting their needs before mine. When you’re conditioned in such a way and the little glass house finally splinters, it feels like the end of the world. A dark abyss pulls me deeper.
Until I was left with two choices.
Either hide until the scars become permanent and fear poisons me slowly or… I could pick myself up. I had already chosen and lived through the first. I wasn’t going to waste another seven years of my life without really living and just drifting wherever the wind took me.
I also knew it wouldn’t magically make my heartbreak disappear.
But I had to try.
For myself.
I needed a fresh start to heal, away from the city I grew up in, away from the shadows of my family, and away from the harrowing and bittersweet memories. Especially from the ghosts of my past. Once I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer, I did what I always dreamt of.
Moving to another city and starting my own interior designing company.
The hardest part was telling my best friends about my decision and living without them by my side, but they understood. The second was quitting my dream job with my mentor. The one I worked so hard to achieve. However, if someone was going to understand my choice better than anyone, it was her.
After all, she had once been in the same place that I was today. Young and brokenhearted. And she has chosen to put all her pain into focusing on her second love. Her last words of wisdom that stuck is to not let work become my whole life. She said it happens slowly and before you know it, it sneaks up on you and you realize it’s all you’re left with. She also mentioned that it comes with a heavy price.
The price of closing our hearts forever.
She said one must learn to live through the pain and to let it make them stronger because nothing is worse than living with regrets. It was the most she had said to me in the years I worked for her. A softer side of her that I didn’t know existed.
The city of Vellington, where I moved, is a beautiful and wholesome place. The weather, the people, and the food—everything is quaint, sweet, and homey. It wasn’t long before I fell in love.
They say nothing breaks like a heart but someone also said everything happens for a reason. It is true but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. Even in a whole new city, little things remind me of Dash. Just saying his name brings an ache to my chest. A longing to feel his skin against mine. His heartbeat in my ears.
In another lifetime, maybe he and I would have stayed together.
Except, our fate came with an ending written in stone.
Or timing was never right.
The urge to cyberstalk him to see what he’s doing in his journey to take over the world always comes in the middle of the night when I’m lying alone in an empty bed. But then I remember how I’m still not over him completely. How difficult it is to just breathe without my heart hurting.
Summoning what little strength I have, I shut down the stupid urge. Obsessing over him would have been taking a step backward. So the first month when I shifted my mindset, I went on a mission to find an apartment in a safe society, and once I settled, I began to focus on building my business. Working as a freelance interior designer is tough when you’re starting out, even if you have experience.
Luckily, Zara helped me land my first client, Sitara Singh, who prefers to work with freelancers who will devote their time and energy solely on hers. I was told if I impressed her, her testimony alone will go a long way since she’s a rich society wife and has tons of connections.
I was apprehensive to meet her at first since I grew up around women like her, but I was pleasantly surprised when we met and talked. She was down to earth, kind, and welcoming. After our first meeting itself, she hired me. It was my first big win in a long time and it gave me the sense of confidence I was searching for.
It wasn’t long before I submerged my heartbreak into building my client base with her glowing recommendation and before I knew it, I had to search for an office to rent out since I could no longer work from my small apartment.
As I look back, I realize how far I’ve come. I was a one-woman show until today, doing everything on my own, like scheduling, meeting with vendors, laborers, and it began to take a toll on my health. So, I decided to hire an assistant to help manage my schedule and enable me to focus on my favorite part of the job—designing. Bringing my clients’ visions to life.
Arriving at the building where I rent my two-room office, I park my car. In an hour, people will be showing up for the job interviews I’m conducting today.
“Hello, Miss Chopra.”
I meet my elderly security guard’s warm eyes and pretend to scold him, “How many times have I told you to call me Bianca, Shammi?”
“I will do no such thing during working hours,” he declares.
I shake my head because the man is stubborn. He’s really fit for someone of the age of seventy and I was surprised to learn that he’s been working here for twenty-something years. Everyone loves his charming smile and mischievous eyes. If he did ever try to quit, no one would let him leave. I, myself, consider him one of my friends in the city.
“Here. I brought you lunch.”
When I pass him the tiffin box, his gaze narrows and he suspiciously asks, “Cooked extra by mistake again, miss?”
“Oh yes,” I say because otherwise he won’t accept it, but we both know I’m lying. It’s the least I could do for all the times he stays behind when I’m working late and walks me to my car at night. With a wave, I walk inside and call out over my shoulder.
“Have a good day, Shammi.”
The next hour flies by, with me sorting and arranging my office properly. If the interviewees saw the clutter and just how disorganized I am, a few might just turn tail while the rest would demand a raise from the first day. Raj, my first interviewee, will be arriving any minute now. I check my watch when there’s a knock at my door. I open it to find him here and welcome him with a warm smile.
“Um. Hi, I’m Raj,” he says, slightly nervous. “Are you Bianca?”
“Yes. I was just waiting for you,” I tell him, before inviting him in. “If you’re ready, we can start. And don’t be nervous.”
He laughs low and some of the tension eases once we sit at my desk. As I observe him, I get a feeling that he’s still in college and probably looking for a summer job. I interview him with an open mind because even though he might not have a lot of experience, he may have the skills I need. Besides, one has to start from somewhere.
After Raj, the next person is already waiting for me and she looks confident. Over the next couple of hours, I run through interviews, and man, it is as tiresome as it is fun. By the time the last interviewee leaves, my shoulders slump because only one out of the eight caught my eye but she can’t start for another two weeks.
And I need one right now. Or I might not have a business by the time she returns.
My second-best option is Raj, but I will have to train him. A lot. That will be another headache. However, I don’t see any other choice. It’s almost evening and I decide to at least get some work done before I leave.
Shammi is always scolding me about how I’m a workaholic—the one quality I despise—since I always work late hours until I’m bone-deep tired. If only he knew the truth. That the thought of returning to my empty apartment is a painful reminder that I’m alone.
That the nights are the hardest.
That working late until I’m ready to pass out is the only way I can hold on to my sanity. The only way I don’t dream of him. The only way I don’t miss being cocooned in his arms.
No matter how hard I try, he’s still as deep in my heart as ever.
Shoving those dark thoughts down, I turn from the unlocked door to walk to my desk.
“Any chance you’re accepting a walk-in?”
I go still when the deep and smoky voice registers in my brain. The one that haunts my soul day and night. My hands freeze in midair as I blink, believing my mind is playing a cruel joke.
He’s not here, Bianca.
Even in my head, it sounds like a futile lie because the next second, his rich scent envelops all the oxygen in the room. I feel his dark presence to the tip of my toes and a shiver crawls up my spine. My traitorous body, betraying me by singing and tingling at the rich timbre of his voice.
I couldn’t possibly have conjured him up, right?
Yet I know it will be him when I turn around.
Time slows down or so it feels, when I slowly turn around with my heart in my throat. A sharp jolt racks my body when I see his handsome face.
He’s here.
Dash is here.
In my city.
Thick emotions get lodged in my throat because he looks like my Dash, but one detail has a visceral reaction pulled out of me. He cut his hair. Closely cropped hair frames his impenetrable green eyes, still piercing and magnificent as ever, with sharp cheekbones that could cut glass and a chiseled jawline hidden beneath his trimmed beard.
His powerful suit is replaced with worn denim jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled. The bare skin of his arms running with veins and a sprinkle of dark hair that make his forearms look sexy. I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of the effect his broad and muscular body has on me.
He looks like the Dash I ran into the first time in his bedroom.
Except, there’s no coldness and darkness radiating from him. The invisible thread that binds us stretches to its limit, ready to snap at any second. While my starving eyes are soaking him in, so are his with such an intensity it steals my breath away.
“Yo-you’re here,” I dumbly whisper, waiting for him to vanish so that I’ll think he was just a figment of my imagination.
“Kitten.”
I jolt again and blink. The shock of seeing him standing a mere foot from me wears off, his earlier question hitting me like a ton of bricks. Does he think he can just waltz back into my life and demand, what? A job?
Hmm, he’s still as arrogant and dominating as ever…
How the fuck does he even know I’m here? Rosa and Iris are the only two people who know and they would never tell him. I guard my expression, summoning all the anger and hurt I felt after he betrayed me, and glare at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like, kitten?” he says, stepping further into my space. “I heard you’re hiring and, well… I’m looking for a job.”
“I’m not your kitten.” He fucking smiles. And god, I want to throttle him. “And don’t you have your own company to run? Or did you suddenly run it into the ground?”
“I sold my shares to Kian and stepped down as the CEO.”
The information renders me speechless. His company was his blood, sweat, and tears. Afraid of the answer, I still ask, “When?”
“The day you left.” He speaks calmly as though he’s talking about the weather. His perceptive gaze scans my office, memorizing every detail. When it returns to mine, it softens around the edges. Hands in his pockets, he bounces on his feet once and drawls, “So, are you going to be interviewing me or what?”
“I’m not giving you a job.”
“Why? Is the position already filled?”
“I find it hard to believe that you’re poor all of a sudden, Dash. I’m sure you can survive without a job.” He doesn’t miss when I purposely don’t answer his question. “Or did you spend all your billions already?”
“Are those questions part of the interview?”
I forgot how relentless and cunning he can be. I’m not playing into one of his games. Especially when I don’t know the rules. I meant what I said. He and I are over. Being together has never fared well. Besides, you know what they say.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice, shame on me.
Fool me thrice… Well, I’m not giving him another chance.
“Why are you really here, Dash?”
His friendly mask cracks, letting me peer into the man who walked out of my life after wrecking me in the aftermath of his storm.
“I told you, kitten. I go where you go.”
