The morning sun peeked through the gauzy curtains, painting soft gold patterns on Alina's worn-out journal beside the windowsill. She sat on the small iron balcony, legs folded beneath her, cradling a warm cup of tea like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.
The city of Paris buzzed faintly below her—a sound that usually comforted her, but today felt like white noise compared to the chaos inside her chest.
She missed him.
Evander Ross.
The man with stormy eyes and a presence so intoxicating that even his absence left behind a lingering ache.
Her eyes stared into the tea as if it held answers.
"Why does it feel so empty without you?" she whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Then she laughed lightly at herself. "Because you made your way into my world without asking, Evander. And now I can't breathe properly without you."
She remembered the way he leaned in when he spoke, his voice smooth and deep, the accidental touches, the fierce arguments that always ended with something soft in his gaze—like he saw parts of her even she had forgotten.
"Did you feel it too?" she asked the morning breeze. "Or was I always the only one sinking?"
She sighed, placing the cup down and running her fingers over the rusted balcony railing. Beside her room stood his—the door locked, silent, untouched. That one door held a thousand memories. Each creak reminded her of a moment. His smirk. His sighs. The way he once leaned against that very doorframe with sleepy eyes and messy hair, asking if she had sugar.
She shook her head, forcing herself up. "Enough."
The library was waiting, and she needed distraction more than ever.
---
The dusty sunrays fell on stacks of old novels and worn encyclopedias as Alina worked, lost in the rhythm of dusting, rearranging, shelving. Books had always healed her. She respected their silence, their stories, the honesty of printed words. Unlike people, books didn't leave.
She climbed a small ladder, balancing a pile of hardcovers when suddenly—a voice, deep and teasing, whispered behind her ear.
"Well, well... still saving the world one dusty book at a time?"
"AHHHH!"
She shrieked and almost dropped a book on her own foot, scrambling down the ladder and turning with wide eyes.
There he was.
Ren.
Handsome, confident, tall, and unmistakably Japanese in features—with sharp cheekbones and a devil-may-care smile. His lean frame stood effortlessly poised, hands in the pockets of a grey coat, eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Oh, it's you," Alina exhaled, placing a hand over her thumping heart. "Why are you here?"
He grinned. "What, can't I come to library ? And honestly, I didn't know you work here. That's… interesting."
She rolled her eyes, a soft chuckle escaping. "Some things haven't changed. You still love startling people."
He leaned closer. "Only the special ones."
They talked. It started with old college memories, laughing over professors and inside jokes. Then moved to current lives. She told him briefly about the library, her writing. He spoke about his travels—Tokyo, Paris, a few months in Berlin.
"I've missed these little banters," he admitted, "Come on, let's catch up properly. Dinner tonight. My treat."
She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. "I don't think—"
"I insist," he interrupted, eyes softening. "Just dinner. No hidden agendas."
"Fine," she said, after a long pause, her heart still tethered to another.
---
The restaurant glowed with amber lights and soft French jazz. Ren looked every bit the charmer in his tailored coat, while Alina wore a simple olive green dress that hugged her gently. Yet, even amidst the elegance, her thoughts kept drifting.
Would Evander like this place?
Would he pull my chair out and tease me for ordering only soup?
Ren, oblivious, kept talking. And then his questions changed direction.
"So… Alina," he began slowly, "Are you seeing someone? Married? Boyfriend? Fiancé hiding in a cupboard somewhere?"
She smiled faintly. "Why do you want to know?"
He leaned in, smirking. "Curious. Maybe hopeful."
But Alina's smile faded. Because in that moment, she heard it too—a deep, familiar silence behind her that shifted the air.
---
Evander stood at the counter near the entrance.
He had planned everything.
He'd returned quietly, carrying a bouquet of pale lilies—her favorite—and had decided to surprise her with dinner. But fate had other plans.
He was just about to place the order when that soft, unmistakable voice floated through the air. Alina's laugh. had a playful warmth that cracked something inside him.
He turned slowly.
There she was.
Laughing. Smiling. With him.
Evander's heart dropped into his stomach, then ignited with something dangerous. His jaw tightened, knuckles turning white as he clenched the bouquet. He didn't know who the man was—but the way he looked at Alina was enough.
Mine, something inside him roared.
Without thinking, he stormed toward their table.
"Alina."
She turned, eyes wide. "Evander?!"
He didn't stop. His steps were fire. His gaze locked on hers—not with the warmth she remembered, but a fury she hadn't seen before. Before she could react, he reached her, grabbed her wrist gently but firmly, and in one swift motion, pulled her up and against him.
"What are you doing?" she gasped.
"I need to talk to you," he said, voice dangerously low.
Ren stood up. "Excuse me—who are you?"
Evander's stare was enough to silence the room. His hand snaked around Alina's waist protectively. "I'm someone who doesn't appreciate his woman being taken out without him knowing."
"Evander, stop!" she whispered, blushing, shocked.
But he didn't.
He walked her out of the restaurant, ignoring the whispers, her confused protests, and her attempts to calm him. His steps were fast, angry, determined.
Within minutes, they were back in front of his room. He unlocked the door, pulled her inside, and slammed it shut behind them.
He turned to face her.
"You didn't tell me you were coming back," she snapped first, "You just vanished and now you're dragging me out of restaurants like a scene from some mafia drama!"
"I wanted to surprise you," he muttered, eyes dark. "But looks like you were… busy."
"Don't you dare," she hissed. "Ren is an old classmate. It was a friendly dinner."
"Friendly?" His voice dropped. "Did he always look at you like he wanted to kiss you back in college too?"
"You're jealous."
"Damn right I am!" he shouted. "You think I can watch you laugh with another man while I'm here losing my mind trying to come back to you?"
Alina stared, stunned. "You don't own me, Evander."
"No. But I feel like I belong to you," he said, stepping closer.
Her breath hitched.
"You think I can sleep knowing you're out there… giving someone else your smile?"
"You're overreacting."
He grabbed her face gently but fiercely, eyes blazing.
"Tell me you don't feel anything when I touch you."
She opened her mouth to speak—but before she could, his lips crashed into hers with the hunger of a storm. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't planned.
It was raw. Animalistic. Like a lion reclaiming its mate.
He kissed her like he had been waiting centuries—like he hated the space between them. Her hands pushed weakly at his chest, but only for a second. Then they clutched his shirt as if she needed anchoring. Their mouths danced in chaos, a war of longing, anger, possession, and pain.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, he whispered against her lips.
"I came back for you, Alina. Don't make me regret it."