Ever Ours, Always

Episode 14 – The Encounter That Shouldn’t Have Happened

The sky was a muted shade of gray, heavy with unshed rain. Isabella hurried along the cobbled streets of the town, clutching her coat tighter around her. It had been days since she last saw Alexander. Days she had spent convincing herself that she was finally free of his presence, of the way his voice lingered in her mind long after he had gone.

Yet, deep down, she knew better.

She could feel him before she saw him.

The café was closing early that evening due to the storm rolling in, and Isabella was thankful for the excuse to bury herself in routine. She locked the doors, her fingers trembling only slightly as she twisted the key. But just as she turned, ready to retreat into the comfort of her solitude, she froze.

A familiar figure stood at the end of the street, his silhouette sharp against the dim glow of the streetlights.

Alexander Sinclair.

He was leaning against his car, one hand in his pocket, the other holding something she couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t dressed in his usual crisp suit; instead, he wore a black coat over a simple dark sweater, his presence somehow both effortless and commanding.

Isabella took a step back, her heartbeat stammering against her ribs.

He shouldn’t be here.

She had been avoiding him, dodging every unplanned meeting, brushing off his attempts at conversation. Yet here he was, standing there as if he had every right to wait for her like this.

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"You’re going to keep running, then?"

Her breath hitched.

Slowly, she turned around, schooling her expression into indifference. "I’m not running."

Alexander tilted his head slightly, a slow, almost knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He took a step forward. "No? Because that’s all you’ve been doing, Bella."

She flinched at the way he said her name—like he still had a claim to it.

"Go home, Alexander," she said quietly. "There’s nothing left for you here."

For a moment, he simply stared at her, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air between them. Then, instead of answering, he lifted the object in his hand—a small, wrapped package.

"I was going to leave this for you," he said, stepping closer, "but that wouldn’t have been enough, would it?"

Isabella’s gaze flickered to the package, then back to his eyes, wary. "What is it?"

"Something you left behind," he murmured.

Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want this—not a reminder, not anything that tethered her to the past he seemed so intent on dragging her back into.

"Take it," he urged.

She hesitated, then reached for it. The moment her fingers brushed against his, she regretted it. The warmth of his skin against hers sent a jolt up her spine, and she yanked her hand back as if burned.

Alexander noticed. His jaw tightened, his grip firm on the package. "You don’t even remember me," he said, voice low, "but you still react like this."

Her breath caught. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupted. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto hers. "And I’m done letting you pretend otherwise."

The wind howled around them, the storm inching closer, but neither of them moved.

Then, before she could protest, Alexander closed the distance between them.

"One dinner," he said, his voice softer now, coaxing. "No more running. No more excuses. Just you and me."

She shook her head. "That’s not—"

"One," he repeated, his fingers grazing her wrist for the briefest second before he pulled away. "If you still want to push me away after that, I’ll go."

The words were a lie. She could see it in his eyes.

And yet, for some reason, she found herself hesitating.

One dinner.

One last time.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

Because fate had never been kind to them, had it?

And this was far from over.