Chapter 8
The next day, I applied for a new position in another city.
Only transfer open? Overseas.
Perfect. The farther, the better.
By day three, the company fast–tracked my passport, and I was gone.
Five years flew by.
I buried myself in work, tuned out the world.
Every now and then, updates from home popped up–friends, clients – but I never listened too hard.
Time dulled the pain. The memories blurred.
Eventually, I worked my way up to president of our overseas branch.
J…
Spring rolls around, and HQ called me in for a report.
The moment I step into the office–bam. Quentin.
And of course, we ended up in the same elevator. Just the two of us.
He looked at me, steady, but his voice cracked a little.
“How’ve you been?”
I didn’t answer. Just nodded.
We used to spend nights tangled up, spilling every thought like it mattered.
Now? I didn’t even wanna speak.
Ding.
The elevator stopped.
I stepped out. He grabbed my wrist.
His face gave nothing away- except for that hint of a plea.
“Dinner tonight. I’ll be at the old spot.”
I slipped my hand free, didn’t say a word.
