The office was quiet for once.
Most of the department had already sent their farewells, their congratulatory remarks, and lingering envy about her transfer to the Arcelli Empire's Australian headquarters. Elira moved between desks, sorting through documents, signing final endorsements, handing over responsibilities with the same precision and detachment she'd mastered over the years.
Everything was in place. As always.
Her phone buzzed on the marble desk—Unknown Number.
She hesitated.
A pause. A breath. Then, she answered.
"Elira."
That voice.
Time didn't just rewind—it shattered. Years folded in on themselves.
"…Eros?"
"Can we talk?" he asked. Just that. No explanations. No demands. Just the familiar steadiness in his voice.
She almost said no.
But she didn't.
Later that afternoon, she walked into the café on the edge of the university district. It was the place they used to sneak off to between classes, her head on his shoulder, books scattered between sips of bitter coffee and soft laughter.
It hadn't changed.
The tiny brass bell above the door chimed as she entered. Warm lights glowed against old brick walls, and the windows still held the sunlight like they always had—golden, soft, forgiving.
She took the table by the window. Their table.
She sat perfectly straight, back to the wall, fingers wrapped around the cup in front of her—though it was untouched.
When the door chimed again, her chest tightened.
Eros stepped in like a shadow she'd locked away.
Older. Sharper. Still him.
He walked toward her, slower than he used to. As if afraid the dream might disappear.
"Elira."
His voice was softer now.
She nodded.
"You came," he said.
"I did."
He sat down across from her. For a long moment, neither spoke.
The memories filled the silence for them.
"You're leaving," he finally said.
"Tomorrow."
"To build more empires?"
A faint smile tugged at her lips. Bittersweet.
"I have responsibilities."
"I know," he said. "You always did."
She looked away toward the window. The city outside moved on, uncaring. But inside the café, the world stilled.
"Why now, Eros?" she asked, quietly.
"Because I never stopped wondering how we went from everything… to nothing."
She didn't answer.
Instead, her mind brought back the last fight. His hands clutched around his guitar case. Her suitcase near the door. Her voice cold. His eyes hurt.
"You were starting to cage me," she whispered. "You wanted a version of me that never existed outside your dreams."
"You said I was a hindrance."
Her throat tightened.
"I was scared," she admitted. "Scared that loving you meant losing everything I worked for. That I'd wake up years later… resenting you. And myself."
Silence again.
Then his voice broke the air. "I was never angry at your ambition. Just… that you chose to leave without even trying to keep both."
"I couldn't," she said, shaking her head. "Back then, I didn't know how."
Eros nodded slowly.
"You look different now," he said. "Colder. Like the world no longer reaches you."
Her fingers curled around her cup. "I had to become this to survive what I chose."
His gaze softened. "And are you happy, Elira?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she looked around the café—at the table, the window, the golden light—and said, almost inaudibly:
"I still come here when things feel heavy."
Eros leaned back. "So do I."
Their eyes met again.
There was no anger now. Just the echo of something that used to be whole.
"I don't want to rewrite the past," he said. "But I needed to know if it still lives in you… even a little."
Her lips parted. But she didn't know what to say.
Because it did.
And she hated that it did.
Instead, she reached for her folder, slowly standing. "My flight's tomorrow."
"I know."
As she walked past him, she stopped. A heartbeat's pause.
Then, softly, without looking back, she said, "Goodbye, Eros."
And left.
Outside, the light was fading.
And still, Elira Callista walked as if the weight of a forgotten love wasn't pressing against her spine—her silhouette strong, unyielding, but shadowed by the boy who once sang her name like it was a prayer.
---
As Elira's figure retreated toward the door, Eros's gaze hardened. His eyes darkened, shadows flickering in their depths—anger, grief, and something more primal, more possessive.
"I had you before," he whispered, voice low and rough. "You are mine. That will never change."
He clenched his fists, struggling to control the storm inside him.
"I gave you too much time to play… but now, it's time you come back to me."
The words hung heavy in the air, a silent promise—and a warning.
___
A familiar silhouette lingered in the shadows of a dark alley, standing still as if waiting for something—or someone.
A car approached, its headlights cutting through the night, revealing the man's face—clouded by jealousy, like something precious had been taken from him.
"Young Master Lucien, the car is ready," a voice called, pulling him back to reality.
Lucien's gaze shifted to the café across the street, where the woman he wanted to possess sat quietly, talking with a man unfamiliar to him. The sight made his chest tighten painfully.
Part of him wanted to storm inside and take her away, but he knew it wasn't the time—not yet. She wasn't his, not fully.
Is this why she won't open up to me? Does she have someone else?
These thoughts twisted in his mind, sparking frustration and restless overthinking.
Tomorrow, she'll be living with me in Australia. I'll make sure that from that moment on, she's mine—completely—and will never look the other way.
Eliras POV
I shut the door behind me, the weight of everything pressing down hard. I pulled out the box I've kept locked away—my secret prison. Photos of us, letters he wrote, songs he sang for me. All fragments of a love that bruised me more than it healed.
My eyes landed on the silver note pendant necklace—his gift. I touched it like it was a wound, aching and raw. I loved him once. Still do, maybe too much. But God, how much pain did he cause? How he caged me, trapped me in his world where I couldn't breathe, couldn't be free.
I remember how he locked me in my room, like a prisoner, so I couldn't meet anyone new, so I wouldn't see the world beyond his reach. I should have left then—before love made me blind. Before I felt his clenched fists, trembling with anger because I dared to want more, to reach out, to climb higher than he wanted me to.
There's so much anger inside me, a storm of resentment that tears at my heart. How can I hate him and still want him? How can I carry the scars he gave me and still crave the comfort of his voice?
I never said this aloud—never let anyone hear how deeply broken I am. I loved him, but he was my cage. And maybe I was his too, in ways neither of us could admit.
He hurt me. But I loved him. And that's the cruelest truth I'll carry.
Still, I made a choice—a hard one—to walk away, to fight for the life I want, even if it means leaving pieces of us behind.
Because no matter the pain, no matter the scars, I refuse to lose myself again.
I take a flash drive out of the box and plug it into my laptop, my fingers trembling. There they are—every song he ever sang for me. Each file a relic of a past I've buried under layers of ambition and survival.
I click on one. It was our favorite—by a singer we both adored. The moment the music starts, I freeze.
His voice.
I was dreaming of the past
And my heart was beating fast
I began to lose control
I began to lose control
I didn't mean to hurt you
I'm sorry that I made you cry
Oh no, I didn't want to hurt you
I'm just a jealous guy
I was feeling insecure
You might not love me anymore
I was shivering inside
I was shivering inside
I didn't mean to hurt you
I'm sorry that I made you cry
Oh no, I didn't want to hurt you
I'm just a jealous guy
It wraps around me like a phantom. He's at the piano, eyes locked on the camera like he's looking straight at me. Singing like he means every word. Like I'm the only girl in the world.
I hear myself giggling in the background, stupidly smitten. That was me—before everything twisted. Before I noticed how the melody changed from warm and soft to something darker, colder. Just like us.
The song keeps playing, his voice dragging me through memories I thought I'd buried. Notes falling like regrets, lyrics echoing the toxicity we tried to romanticize.
And still... I smile. Bitterly. Because even in the heartbreak, part of me misses it.
Misses him.
And that terrifies me more than anything.