The next time I saw Eli, the world looked deceptively ordinary.
The hotel's glass walls reflected the soft afternoon light, and the scent of coffee and freshly printed brochures filled the air. I've been planning to put off this meeting but it had arrived too soon.
Daniel was already there, talking to one of the event coordinators. His confident laughter is drawing attention. He was good at taking up space, charming a room until it bent in his direction. I used to think that made me feel safe. Now, I wasn't sure what it made me feel.
"Lia," he greeted when he saw me and kissed my cheek. His sharp and expensive cologne lingered. "You're late."
"I was caught in a traffic," I replied with a small smile, slipping into the seat beside him.
Then I saw Eli.
He was arranging some layout sheets on the table. His sleeves were rolled just enough to show his wristwatch, the same one he wore years ago. For a moment, the room seemed smaller.
"Mr. Navarro," Daniel greeted, offering a firm handshake.
"Thank you for accommodating us today. My fiancée tends to change her mind a lot, so good luck."
The words were light, teasing even, but they stung more than they should have. Eli's gaze flickered to me for the briefest second and then back to Daniel.
"I'm sure we'll find something she loves," Eli said simply, his tone was polite but measured.
The air between us tightened.
He began the presentation. He presented photos, color palettes and seating arrangements. They all perfectly aligned. I tried to listen to the way he spoke, but every syllable carried the echo of someone I used to know too well.
"This is the main ballroom," he explained, pointing to a digital layout. "It can hold up to two hundred guests. The floral arrangements can be customized, depending on your color theme. I believe your coordinator mentioned ivory and gold?"
Daniel nodded. "Right. Those look clean and elegant. Lia's into simple things."
Eli's eyes met mine again, quietly questioning, as if to ask if that was true.
"I am," I lied. Because I used to love color. I used to love warmth. I love terracotta, sunset pinks, and soft greens. But that was before I learned that preferences could become negotiations in love. Before I started choosing silence over arguments.
"I'll have the florists prepare samples," Eli continued. "We can do a full tasting later of entrées, desserts, and wines. You'll get to approve everything firsthand."
"Perfect," Daniel said. "We'll trust your expertise."
I didn't speak much. I couldn't. Every detail he presented, every time he said my name sounded like he was trying not to remember.
When the meeting ended, Daniel's phone buzzed. He excused himself, saying it was a client. I watched him walk away. His voice was already raised as he stepped out.
Eli began packing his things.
"You don't have to pretend," he said quietly, still not looking at me.
"Pretend what?"
"That you're fine."
I inhaled slowly. "I am fine."
He glanced up, and for a heartbeat, his expression softened with a flicker of something like disbelief. "You were never good at lying, Lia."
The sound of my name in his voice unraveled something deep inside me.
I looked away. I focused on the half-empty coffee cup in front of me. "I wasn't expecting to see you again," I admitted.
"Neither was I." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "You left without saying goodbye."
I flinched. "You don't get to say that."
His jaw tensed. "You think I didn't look for you?"
"Did you?"
The silence that followed said enough. He had, maybe not in the way I wanted, not enough to erase the sting of betrayal. But he had. And that truth hurt more than if he hadn't.
The fragile moment was broken when Daniel returned a moment after.
"All good?" he asked, sliding his arm around my chair. "We'll head out after the tasting."
Eli straightened. "Of course. Shall we move to the banquet hall?"
The food tasting was quiet. The staff moved gracefully while placing rhe dishes on the table one by one. Eli stood across from us, explaining each course.
"This one's a personal favorite," he said, his voice softer now. "Lemon butter salmon with truffle risotto."
Daniel took a bite first. "It's good. What do you think, love?"
I lifted my fork, tasting it slowly. The flavor bloomed in my mouth. My chest ached at the memory it stirred s night years ago.
A plate of homemade pasta, his laughter filling my kitchen.
"It's good," I said, forcing a smile. "Very good."
Eli's gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he turned away.
Halfway through, Daniel received another call. He sighed dramatically and stood up. "Sorry, work again. I'll be quick."
I nodded, and soon it was just me and Eli.
He poured wine into my glass without asking. "It's the same one we used to get from that small shop on Jupiter Street," he murmured.
My heart stumbled. "You still remember that?"
"I remember everything," he said quietly.
I looked at him then really looked. The years had been kind, but his eyes still carried the same sorrow I'd left behind. And in that moment, I realized something cruelly beautiful. Time hadn't dulled him. It had only made remembering harder.
"Why are you doing this?" I whispered.
His brows furrowed. "Doing what?"
"Planning my wedding."
He smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe it's my punishment."
For a second, the noise of the room faded. The clinking of cutlery, the hum of conversation, the faint music playing from the speakers are gone. All that existed was the space between us, the unspoken history we both carried like a wound that refused to heal.
"You shouldn't say things like that," I said.
He met my gaze. "You shouldn't look at me like that."
I looked away first.
Minutes later, Daniel cheerfully returned like nothing had happened. He sat down, complained about a client, kissed my temple, and told Eli to finalize everything.
"Of course," Eli replied professionally.
We finished the tasting, discussed schedules, and agreed to meet again in a week. Everything went perfectly atleast on paper.
But as we stood to leave, Eli said, "Lia, you forgot your folder."
I turned. He was holding it out, but when our fingers brushed, it was like every memory came rushing back at once.
"Thank you," I said softly.
He nodded. "You're welcome."
As I walked out with Daniel, I could feel Eli's eyes on me. They are steady, unreadable, but heavy with everything we still hadn't said.
Outside, the sun was already setting and painting the glass walls gold. Daniel was talking about work, his voice was distant and almost impatient. I nodded along, pretending to listen. But deep down, all I could hear was Eli's voice echoing in my chest.
Maybe it's my punishment.
And for reasons I couldn't explain, part of me wondered if I was being punished too.