Everything we never said

Chapter two

Something very old quietly breaks.

And I smile.

Not because I want to.

Not because I mean it.

But because years ago I learned that sometimes the only thing standing between you and humiliation is muscle memory.

So I smile.

Professional.

Poised.

Unbothered.

Even as my heart sits somewhere near my knees.

Adrian crosses the room.

God.

He still walks the same way.

Not arrogant.

Never arrogant.

Just… certain.

Like the world has spent years moving out of his way and he barely notices it anymore.

"Ivy Williams," he says, extending his hand.

His voice.

Lower than I remember.

Smoother.

A little rough around the edges.

Professional.

Entirely unfamiliar.

"Welcome to Ross & Vale."

I stare at his hand for half a second too long.

I felt rather irritated than reminiscing about old feelings.

Or thats what i thought

Or maybe i was just angry i dont know

Not because I don't know how to shake it.

Because I do.

I've shaken hands with investors.

CEOs.

Government officials.

Men who tried to intimidate me and failed spectacularly.

But I have never shaken hands with the boy I almost kissed.

The boy I loved.

The man who forgot me.

Still smiling, I take his hand.

The contact is brief.

Warm.

Firm.

Electric.

Or maybe that's just me being ridiculous.

Adrian lets go.

Nothing in his expression changes.

No flicker.

No pause.

No.

Wait.

Nothing.

Marcus is rambling.

"…top performer in her previous company, master's with distinction…"

I hear none of it.

Because Adrian doesn't know me.

And I had spent all night preparing myself for anger.

For awkwardness.

For him to look at me and remember.

Remember the backyard.

The almost-kiss.

The silence after.

Remember choosing another girl.

Remember breaking my heart without even knowing he'd been holding it.

I prepared myself for every possibility.

Except this one.

Being forgotten.

It's absurd how much that hurts.

Marcus finishes.

Adrian nods.

"Impressive."

I almost laughed.

Impressive?

I'd stayed awake until three in the morning for years proving myself.

I'd built an entire life out of surviving him.

Impressive feels too small.

"Thank you," I say smoothly.

Adrian gestures toward the chairs.

"Please. Sit."

I do.

I cross one leg over the other.

Place my handbag beside me.

The picture of confidence.

Inside

chaos.

Adrian sits across from me.

And I make a mistake.

I really look at him.

Not the CEO.

Not the polished version on magazine covers.

Him.

His hair is shorter.

His shoulders are broader.

The softness he once had is hidden beneath sharp edges now.

His face carries success well.

Too well.

There are faint lines beside his eyes.

The kind earned through long nights and impossible responsibilities.

His watch probably costs more than my first car.

He wears power quietly.

The way he always wore everything.

Easily.

Effortlessly.

Like it was never the point.

Like he never knew people looked at him and forgot themselves.

I hate that I notice.

Hate it.

Because ten years should be enough.

Shouldn't it?

Ten years should make someone ordinary.

A memory softened by time.

Not

this.

Adrian opens a folder.

"So."

He glances up.

"I've heard good things."

I smile.

"I've heard terrifying things."

One of his eyebrows lifts.

"About me?"

"You have a reputation."

"And?"

I shrug.

"They say you're intense."

"They're right."

"They say you don't sleep."

"Also true."

"They say you once fired someone over a typo."

A pause.

"I did not."

"So that's a myth?"

"I fired him for six typos."

I laugh.

The sound escapes before I can stop it.

And Adrian—

actually smiles.

Not the polite CEO smile.

A real one.

Small.

Crooked.

For one horrifying moment

he looks exactly like seventeen.

My stomach drops.

Because suddenly I'm back there.

Texting him until sunrise.

Arguing about music.

Listening to him explain ridiculous conspiracy theories with a completely straight face.

"The moon landing was fake."

"Adrian."

"You can't prove it."

"Because it happened."

"Allegedly."

"You're insufferable."

"And yet you text me every day."

My chest aches.

I look away.

The office suddenly feels too warm.

Adrian notices.

"You okay?"

"Perfect."

"You don't look perfect."

I blink.

That

that used to be his thing.

He'd always know.

Even when I lied.

Even when I smiled.

Especially when I smiled.

I force myself to meet his eyes.

"I'm just adjusting."

His expression softens.

"First days can be strange."

If only he knew.

If only he knew that I'd imagined this meeting a thousand times.

That in some versions I cried.

In others I yelled.

In a few embarrassing ones he apologized for things he never even knew he'd done.

And in none

absolutely none

did he forget me?

Adrian leans back.

"You'll be working closely with me."

Wonderful.

My soul leaves my body briefly and returns.

"Exciting."

"You don't sound excited."

"I don't want to peak too early."

A ghost of a smile touches his mouth.

Interesting.

That smile says.

He studies me.

Not romantically.

Not personally.

Professionally.

Like he's trying to understand me.

I hate that part of me wants him to.

"So," Adrian says, "what made you choose us?"

You.

The answer comes instantly.

Violently.

You ruined me.

You shaped me.

You taught me that loving someone silently is just another form of grief.

You.

Instead I say:

"The work."

Professional.

Safe.

Boring.

Adrian nods.

But something about his expression changes.

Just slightly.

Like disappointment.

Weird.

Why would he be disappointed?

"You seem familiar," he says suddenly.

My pulse stops.

"What?"

He frowns.

"I don't know."

His gaze sharpens.

"Have we met before?"

Every nerve in my body lights up.

Here it is.

Recognition.

Finally.

I almost laugh from relief.

"Think carefully," I say.

His eyes narrow.

He studies my face.

The eyeliner.

The lashes.

The lips.

My eyes.

Something flickers.

I see it.

Sees the exact second his brain reaches toward a memory.

Seventeen.

A girl laughing too hard.

Big hoodies.

Nervous smiles.

Late-night phone calls.

His expression shifts.

My heart climbs into my throat.

He knows.

He knows.

And then

the moment passes.

Adrian shakes his head.

"No."

I feel stupidly betrayed.

By his memory.

By myself.

By the universe.

"Guess not," I say lightly.

He nods.

"Sorry."

Sorry.

What an absurd word.

Sorry for not remembering.

Sorry for forgetting the girl who remembered everything.

Sorry for becoming the great love story of someone's life and never realizing you'd been cast.

I stand.

"I should probably get settled."

Adrian rises too.

"Marcus will show you around."

"Great."

Another handshake.

This one is somehow worse.

Our hands touch.

And Adrian pauses.

Just for a second.

His brows draw together.

I noticed immediately.

Because of course I do.

He notices too.

Looks down at our joined hands.

Then back at me.

Confused.

Like his body knows something his mind doesn't.

My breath catches.

Adrian slowly lets go.

A strange silence settles between us.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"It's nothing."

Liar.

Not a deliberate one.

But a liar all the same.

Because I see it.

The tiny crease between his brows.

The way his gaze lingers a fraction too long.

The unsettling feeling of almost remembering.

Almost.

Almost.

Almost.

Marcus appears at the door.

"Ready?"

I nod.

I turn to leave.

And for the first time since entering the office

I let myself feel angry.

Not at Adrian.

Not exactly.

At fate.

At timing.

At seventeen-year-old me who was too scared to kiss the boy I loved.

And that was when i realized i was angry i had these feelings again

At twenty-seven-year-old me who apparently still cares.

I reach the door.

"Ms. Williams."

Adrian's voice stops me.

I turn.

He's watching me.

Still frowning slightly.

Still searching.

"I have a feeling," he says slowly,

"That meeting you is going to change something."

I stare at him.

A laugh nearly escapes me.

Because he has no idea.

No idea at all.

And somehow…

that hurts even more than being forgotten.