The Next Morning
Regret clung to Layla Parker like stale perfume.
She stood at the window of her office, staring down at the tiny cars and busy people below. The city moved fast, buzzing with lives she didn't feel part of. The glass wall made her feel like she was floating—untuchable, maybe even powerful.
But inside, she felt like she was falling apart.
His words from last night echoed in her mind:
"Beautiful people with sad eyes pretending to be fireworks."
She hated how much it lingered.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Sarah. Layla sighed, already feeling guilty about the night before.
Sarah: Good morning, damsel. Hope you're good?
A small, genuine smile crept across Layla's face as she replied.
Layla: Of course, sunshine. I'm doing just fine. Thanks for asking. And I'm sorry about yesterday.
A few seconds later:
Sarah: It's fine. Your happiness matters. Gotta run, but we'll chat later. Bye honey!
Layla: Love you.
Sarah wasn't just a friend. She was everything—sister, mother, protector. Layla would do anything for her. She always made life feel lighter.
Layla was still lost in thought when her assistant's voice came through the intercom.
"Miss Parker, the representatives from MagnusTech are here. They're waiting in the boardroom."
Layla smoothed her navy blouse, straightening her posture like armor.
"I won't be attending," she said. "Send them away."
"But ma'am—"
"No buts, Miley. I'm going out for coffee alone. Tell the guards not to follow me. And cancel my schedule for the day."
Miley nodded hesitantly and left.
*
*
*
Later that morning
Layla's heels clicked against the pavement as she walked, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. She had a car—but sometimes, she liked pretending she wasn't rich. Just... normal. And to what use is the car when the coffee shop is not too far from her company, it will definitely be a show off if she uses the car.
As she sipped her coffee, a thought returned, uninvited.
The guy from last night.
He didn't even tell me his name. And I can't stop thinking about him.
She shook her head, frustrated.
"You don't ache for someone who insults you," she muttered. "You forget them."
But her heart didn't listen.
She was still in deep thoughts...
Then it happened.
Harry.
And a woman holding onto his arm as they walked towards her direction.
Layla froze.
He looked even better in the daylight—white shirt, slate-gray coat, messy hair like he rolled out of a designer ad. But this time, his eyes were distant. Cold.
The woman beside him—Jessy—was stunning. Tall, blonde, flawless. And when she noticed Layla, her scowl was immediate.
Their eyes locked. Just for a second.
Harry's jaw tensed.
"Mam?" someone called from behind her. She barely heard it. She stepped forward without thinking. Maybe to say something. Maybe just to feel less... small.
Her hand brushed Harry's arm.
He recoiled.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped.
Layla flinched. "I—I didn't mean—"
Jessy stepped in, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.
"You know her?" she asked.
"No," Harry said flatly. "Just some club girl who doesn't know her place."
The words hit harder than she expected.
"Excuse me?" Layla asked, stunned but still happy he remembered her face.
But Jessy didn't wait.
She slapped Layla. Hard. Layla's coffee hit the ground, splattering across the polished floor.
Gasps echoed. Everything went quiet.
Jessy tossed her hair. "Next time, keep your hands to yourself, sweetheart."
Layla's cheek stung. Her pride burned. She stood frozen, humiliated in front of everyone.
Harry turned to leave—but Layla wasn't finished.
She grabbed Jessy's arm and slapped her. Not once. Twice.
"The second one's for my coffee," she said coldly, then stormed off without another word.
Jessy lunged, but Harry held her back. "That's enough!"
Jessy screamed. "If I didn't come visit my friend here, this lowlife wouldn't have dared to slap me!"
---
Back at the Office
Layla entered with a storm cloud on her face. Staff greeted her, but she didn't respond like she usually did.
She marched over to one employee.
"Who were they here to see?"
The woman froze. Nervous.
Layla narrowed her eyes. "Are you friends with them?"
The staff member stuttered, "Th-the lady... she's my friend."
Layla sighed and walked away.
"What just happened?" someone whispered behind her.
Later that evening
Layla sat in the back seat of her car, watching the city go by. Her thoughts were scattered.
Then—
"Stop the car!"
The driver hit the brakes hard. Layla rolled down the window and stared across the street.
Jessy.
In a wine bar. With someone new.
A different man. Young. Handsome. Not Harry.
Jessy leaned close, touching his wrist. Then—she kissed him.
Not casually.
Deep. Passionate. Like they knew each other well.
Layla's chest tightened.
She didn't want to care. She shouldn't. But she did.
Harry didn't deserve that.
He may have been cruel—but he wasn't a fool.
Jessy wasn't in love. She was playing games.
And Layla?
She felt something new rise inside her.
Not pity.
Not revenge.
Clarity.
Jessy didn't want Harry. She wanted control.
But Layla?
Layla wanted the truth. And maybe—just maybe—she wanted Harry, too.
She didn't know what she'd do yet.
But one thing was certain:
She wasn't done.