The next morning arrived without mercy. The sky was cloudy, but Darius's mood was even darker. He hadn't slept all night, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of his vast penthouse apartment that felt emptier than ever. Elara had filled his thoughts without pause—her gaze, her voice, and the bitter smile that haunted his night.
Darius stood before the large window overlooking the city. Jakarta hadn't fully awakened yet, but cars had begun crawling along the streets. He sipped his coffee without tasting it. Its bitterness was nothing compared to the sting that lingered in his chest since yesterday's encounter.
He took a deep breath. This couldn't go on. He had to refocus.
But when he arrived at the office and opened the door to his room, the first thing he saw was the project file that involved Elara. Her name was clearly printed at the top: Elara Vienne – Lead Architect.
"She'll be working directly with you for the next three months," Rachel had said yesterday, before Elara walked in. "The client wants full collaboration between you and her."
Three months.
Three months with the woman he once loved more than life itself. Three months with a wound that had never healed. And three months to find out—was it really over?
Darius sank into his chair. His hands flipped through file after file, trying to read, but his mind wandered to the past. He remembered their last night together. Elara had fallen asleep on the studio couch, her fingers still stained with ink. She looked peaceful then. While Darius... silently prepared to leave.
He never woke her.
And that morning, Elara woke up alone.
Coward. That word still hit him every time he recalled the moment. He could've been honest. Could've asked Elara to fight alongside him against his father. But he chose to walk away. Chose submission. And lost everything.
A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Come in," he said without looking up.
Rachel appeared. "Elara is in the meeting room. The project starts today. Would you like me to prepare the initial presentation?"
Darius gave a slight nod. "Yes. Make sure the team is ready."
Rachel hesitated. "Is... everything alright, sir?"
He turned to her. "Everything will be fine. Just focus on the job."
She nodded and left, leaving Darius with his increasingly chaotic thoughts.
---
That afternoon's meeting room was filled with a tension nearly invisible to others. The team looked enthusiastic, and several junior architects couldn't hide their admiration for Elara, who presented her ideas with passion and confidence. Initial sketches, building layouts, sustainability concepts—everything was delivered with elegance and precision.
Darius sat silently, observing.
Elara was no longer the 22-year-old girl who used to look at him with hope and love. The woman standing before him now was a true professional. Strong. Assertive. And seemingly no longer needing him.
But Darius knew. Behind that firmness was anger still burning. And a wound unhealed.
"Would you like to add something, Mr. Alverton?" Elara suddenly asked, looking at him from across the table.
Darius raised his head. "Everything looks solid. But we need to push the timeline. The client wants groundbreaking in six weeks."
Elara gave a curt nod. "I'll revise the architect team's work schedule. I'll send the update tomorrow."
No exchange of smiles. No small talk. Everything felt formal—almost foreign. And that hurt.
---
After the meeting ended and everyone filed out one by one, Darius remained in his seat. He waited for Elara, who was still packing up her laptop.
"Can we talk for a moment?" he asked.
Elara turned, but didn't stop moving her hands. "If it's about the project, just send it via email."
"It's not about the project," Darius said quietly.
At last, Elara stopped. She looked up, her gaze sharp but calm. "Then we don't need to talk."
"Elara…"
She stood up. "I didn't come here to resolve the past. I'm here for my job. So please—don't mix personal matters."
Darius rose from his chair. "You think I want to mix everything? No. But I also can't pretend you never existed."
"The Elara you knew no longer exists, Darius," she said flatly. "You killed her four years ago."
And with that, she walked out. Not in a rush. Not running. But with a firm stride that said one thing:
She's not ready to forgive.
And Darius had to accept that—for now.
---
That night, Darius declined all dinner invitations and business meetings. He went to one of the quietest places in the city—a small bar atop an old building known only to a select few. He sat in the corner, ordered whiskey, and stared blankly out the window.
Someone like him—always full of plans, schedules, and strategies—suddenly felt directionless.
He pulled out his phone and opened the photo app. Still stored there was the only photo of Elara he'd never deleted. A candid shot he'd taken secretly at the architecture studio where Elara once interned. She was laughing with her colleagues. Candid. Pure. Happy.
He swiped the screen. Below it, there was a voice memo. Elara's voice, sent a few weeks before their breakup.
"If you're in doubt, say so. Don't leave me wondering alone. This world's too big for silence, Ris... But if you choose silence, I'll take it as your answer."
And he had chosen silence.
That one decision changed everything.
---
Darius emptied his drink, then leaned back in his chair. Soft jazz music played in the background. But his mind wasn't calm. He knew that if he waited for time to heal everything, Elara would walk away again. Maybe for good.
He couldn't let that happen.
Not this time.
His phone buzzed. A message from Jackson.
"I've sent the full report on Elara. No steady partner. Lives in Senopati apartment. Works late hours. And... she's developing a small gallery. All details are in the document."
Darius stared at the screen for a while before replying:
"Thanks. I'll take care of the rest myself."
---
In his mind, a plan was beginning to take shape.
Darius Alverton would not force Elara to return.
But he would prove one thing:
That he had changed.
That he still loved her.
And that love—just once in a lifetime—is worth fighting for.