Meera
The rain kept falling, hard and cold against the windshield. Adrian and I still stood under his umbrella, by his car. Adrian soaked but patient, his jaw tight as if waiting for me to change my mind.
I didn't know what to say anymore. My heart felt like a tug-of-war between logic and chaos, and both men were holding the rope. "I appreciate the offer," I said finally, my voice trembling as much as my hands, "but I'm not moving in with either of you. I'll find my own place."
Adrian blinked, surprised, something flickered in his eyes, annoyance? amusement? I couldn't tell.
"You don't have to prove anything, Meera," Adrian said quietly. "I'm just trying to help."
"I know," I whispered, stepping back from the car. "But help comes with expectations, Adrian. And I'm tired of those." I turned around, my slippers splashing in the puddles as I made my way back to the house that was no longer mine. Behind me, engines hummed. Adrian's car reversed slowly, headlights flashed once, briefly illuminating me like a final look then his car rolled out of the driveway, with the other truck. And just like that, I was alone again. Completely, utterly alone with Mrs. Walker.
The rain softened to a drizzle, leaving behind that damp, quiet scent of endings. I stood in my doorway for a while, staring at the empty driveway, until a loud honk jolted me out of my thoughts. A red car, a very familiar one, came skidding to a stop in front of my gate. The door flew open, and a figure in a beige trench coat and messy bun jumped out, waving both arms like a lunatic. "MEERA WALKER!"
My jaw dropped. "Becky?" She squealed, running toward me, her heels slapping the wet ground. "Oh my God, it's you!" Before I could react, she was wrapping me in a tight hug, her perfume cutting through the smell of rain. "You didn't tell me you were getting kicked out of your fancy estate, woman!" She said, staring at the boxes outside.
I laughed, a real one this time, the first in days or probably months. "It's a long story babe. I'll explain everything later but for now, I need to get my things out. Come in!". I said excitedly and I grabbed her hands.
"How's your mom?" she said casually, pulling back with a grin. "You know she still calls me her second daughter, right?"
I groaned. "Remind me to block you both." Her eyes softened when she saw the state of my things, boxes stacked by the door, my suitcase waiting in the corner. "Hey," she said gently, "you okay?"
I swallowed hard. "I've had better weeks." I had no idea Mrs. Walker had already left.
She nodded, looping her arm through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Come to think of it, I booked a temporary apartment. Short-term lease, cozy place, decent kitchen. You can crash with me until you figure things out."
I blinked. "You… did all that?". See, that's my best friend. She always help even when she doesn't know it.
She smirked. "Please. You think I'd let my best friend turn into a tragic Hallmark movie character? Not on my watch."
By the time we finished loading the last of my boxes into her car and mine, the rain had stopped completely. The clouds were thinning, the moon peeking shyly through. I looked at my place one more time and waved at it. It was an emotional goodbye but I didn't cry. Not even a little. I looked over to Mrs. Walker's place and saw her husband and her kids, in the car, ready to go. She ran to me and handed me a note of her new address and her phone number. "Goodbye dear". She smiled and hugged me. "Goodbye Mrs. Walker". I waved at her husband from afar. I watched their car sped off, down to the street.
Becky drove like she was auditioning for a Fast & Furious reboot. I was behind her car, following her.
It felt good to laugh again. To forget Tobias's heavy gaze and Adrian's soft pleading. To remember who I was before men and money complicated my peace. When we finally arrived at the apartment complex, it wasn't bad at all. The building was small but modern, with glass doors and warm lighting. Inside, the apartment smelled like lemon cleaner and new beginnings. Boxes sat neatly by the wall where Becky had arranged some essentials. The place wasn't fancy like my old one, but it felt… calm. Like it wouldn't demand anything from me. I sat on the couch, exhausted but strangely lighter. I just kept the boxes in one place and left the arrangement for later.
Becky tossed me a throw blanket and collapsed beside me. "So," she began, nudging me with her elbow. "Tell me everything. Every single detail. Start with the mysterious billionaire you said you ghosted and end with the brooding estate owner who looks like he eats chaos for breakfast."
I groaned, covering my face. "It's a long story."
"I've got wine and zero bedtime. And guess what, I'm going to be here for a while" she said, already excited to hear. Did she just say she's going to be staying here for a while? Now, it occurred to me why she booked an apartment. Because she never does. She comes and goes. And when she comes, it's because of me. She has no relative here.
She's not from here; I'm not either. Immediately after college, I flew to New York. To start a new life. Four years ago.
And so, I told her. About the snowy evening that started it all. About Adrian Wolfe and his late arrival, his half-truths, his persistence. About Tobias Moretti and his strange allure, the way he spoke like every word was both a warning and an invitation. By the time I finished, Becky's expression was unreadable. "So basically," she said slowly, "you're living inside two billionaire's head."
"I'm living inside a disaster," I muttered.
She sipped her wine thoughtfully. "Okay, but tell me honestly, do you like Tobias?"
I hesitated. "He's… complicated. And intimidating. But when he talks, it's like the rest of my world zones out."
"And Adrian?"
"He's persistent. Sweet, when he's not trying too hard. But something about him feels off lately. I don't trust him"
Becky tilted her head. "Off, how?"
"I don't know. Like he's watching me even when he's not around and you know how I hate being watched."
"Girl, that's not romantic, that's creepy."
I smiled faintly, but the truth was, it did feel that way sometimes. The texts. The unexpected roses. I still don't know who dropped that crimson rose at my front door. The way he always seemed to know where I'd be and interrupting my day with creepy texts. Becky reached out, squeezing my hand. "You're safe here, okay? No billionaire, no stalker, no drama. Just us and terrible takeout."
I exhaled deeply, the tension melting a little. "I missed you."
She grinned. "I know. I'm unforgettable."
We talked for hours, about work, about her latest dating disasters, about how my life somehow turned into an unplanned soap opera. By the time we were done, the clock read past midnight.
Becky fell asleep halfway through a story about her trip to Miami, curled up on the couch under a throw blanket. I smiled at the sight, messy hair, slipper still on, wine glass half full. Some things never changed.
I moved to the small balcony, pushing open the glass door. The night was still, the streets below quiet except for the soft hum of traffic in the distance. The rain had left the pavement glistening, reflecting the city lights like liquid stars. I wrapped the blanket tighter around me as I stood at the balcony. For the first time in a while, I felt safe. No expectations. No tension. Just quiet. Could feel the wind moving my hair.
I then heard it, a faint hum. I then knew peace doesn't last forever. A car engine, maybe. I leaned over the railing. A sleek, dark car turned into the narrow street below, headlights dimmed. It slowed near our building, paused for a few seconds, then drove off again. My chest tightened. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe a random person got lost.
I stepped back inside, shutting the balcony door softly. Becky stirred but didn't wake up. I sank onto the couch beside her, trying to shake off the unease. It's just my mind, I told myself. Just exhaustion. Just paranoia. But deep down, I knew better. Because as I lay there in the dark, half-asleep, my phone buzzed once on the coffee table. A single message.Unknown Number: Sweet dreams, Meera.
I froze. The timestamp read 12:47 a.m. I looked toward the balcony again, the curtains swaying faintly from the breeze I hadn't noticed before. The night outside was quiet, too quiet. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe, just maybe… he'd already found me. Like he always did.