A Year After Us

Episode 4

Cate's POV

It was late. The office was quiet. Only a few lights were on across the floor. I stayed behind using the excuse of “finishing mock-ups” — but truthfully, I just wanted to avoid people. Avoid… him.

I opened the system wireframe on my screen, but I wasn’t really seeing it.

Instead, I saw his face. Earlier. The way his brows furrowed while explaining the drill automation design. The same furrow he used to have when he was fixing our IKEA table that still wasn’t level no matter how many times he rebuilt it.

I closed my eyes. Focus, Cate.

But then I saw something in the shared drive folder — a photo used for the company overview. Familiar mining equipment. Familiar site. Familiar blue truck.

My chest tightened.

That was his truck.

The one we used to ride for supply runs. The one where I first said “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

I closed the folder quickly. But the memories rushed in anyway.

Flashback – Two Years Ago

“Cate,” Karl said, his voice low, trying to keep calm. “What do you want to happen?”

We were in my apartment. My suitcase was still open on the couch — half-packed. Half-hoping.

“I just need space,” I said, looking away. “Just some time. I feel… lost, Karl. I don’t know who I am outside of us.”

He nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you need…”

I expected resistance. But instead, he just stood there. Agreed. Quietly walked away.

At first, I thought it was fine. Just a few days. We’d go back to how we were.

But days turned into weeks. Nothing. No texts. No calls.

Then… I found out.

It was Ella who told me. She saw something. A girl. Chatting with Karl. Not just a friend — the vibe was sweet. Intimate.

I brushed it off. But curiosity won.

I checked. It was true.

The painful part?

I knew the girl.

And I hated her.

Not because she was mean. Not because she was fake.

But because she was so easy to love.

Even I wanted to be friends with her.

That’s what made it worse.

That’s what broke me.

Another Flashback – Days Later

I showed up at Karl’s place. Rain. I was soaking wet. I didn’t give notice. I just… needed to hear it from him.

He opened the door — surprised. Quiet. Eyes tired.

“Cate…”

“Say it,” I said, voice trembling. “Do you already want her?”

Silence.

Seconds felt like hours.

And then finally, he looked at me.

“…Yes.”

That one word.

It shattered everything.

Present – Back in the Office

A tear rolled down my cheek as I stared blankly at my monitor.

I wiped it away quickly.

“I’m fine now,” I whispered to myself. “I’m fine.”

But my heart answered otherwise.

Because healing doesn’t mean forgetting.

And peace doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.

“Guys, the API integration still isn’t stable. There’s a delay in data fetch,” I said, trying to stay calm while opening the error logs.

“Sorry, Cate. Working on it now,” answered Paolo, one of the junior devs.

We were in the warzone — or as we called it, Final Sprint Week. PowerPoints everywhere. Code reviewers panicking. Coffee cups lined up like trophies of suffering.

Me? I was used to this. I wanted this.

Better this than thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking about.

Like him.

“Coffee, team?” It was Ali, entering our workspace carrying a tray of iced coffee.

“Oh my god, thank you Ali!” MJ shouted as she grabbed her drink.

Ali handed me mine last. “Here, extra strong. I know you’re stressed. Don’t tell me you haven’t slept again?”

I gave a tired smile. “I’ll sleep once this is deployed.”

“Exactly,” she said, leaning closer. “I wish Karl was just a system — so you could debug him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ali…”

“Fine, fine,” she whispered, hands raised in surrender. “I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” I said firmly.

And for the most part, I was.

With the system nearing deadline, meetings piling up, and constant client feedback, I barely had time to breathe — let alone think about someone I swore I had already left behind.

There were still times I caught myself thinking.

Like when I passed the hallway where the tour ended.

Or when I heard “Karl” from a random call.

Or in the elevator, when I smelled something familiar — citrus, leather, and coffee.

But mostly, he was just a background thought now.

A glitch I already patched.

Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

“Cate, client call in five minutes,” MJ called from her desk.

I nodded and minimized all my tabs. Took a breath. Chin up. Smile ready.

This is me now.

The version that works.

The version that builds systems, not breaks.

And right now, I had no space in my brain for heartbreaks or memories.

Right now, Cate Mante was too damn busy remembering who she is — without him.

“Cate, quick sync meeting with the engineering side. Face-to-face,” MJ called, peeking through the glass wall of our team room.

“Ugh. Who?” I asked, quickly fixing the layout diagram on my tablet.

“The… engineer. From the mining site. You know… him.”

I froze. For the first time in days, the name hit me hard.

Karl.

“Right. Okay,” I muttered, grabbing my tablet, trying not to let MJ or anyone else see how my grip tightened just a bit.

We met in the small project huddle room. There was a whiteboard, a monitor, a coffee table in the corner.

When I stepped in, he was already there.

Karl Cavin Tan.

He didn’t seem to have changed. Still in his black polo, ID hanging low, arms crossed casually — except I noticed the twitch in his jaw. Nervous? Maybe. I didn’t care.

“Good morning,” I said first, tone flat. Civil.

Professional.

“Morning,” he replied, voice low, steady… but not cold. Worse — it was gentle.

We both sat down.

I tapped my screen, projecting the draft architecture plan. “So this is where the system will link with your existing database. The transition point will need full integration on your end. Which means…”

“…which means I’ll have to coordinate with your team daily,” he finished.

I nodded. “Exactly.”

“Got it,” he said, his eyes meeting mine for a second too long.

I looked away. Focus, Cate. This isn’t about you two.

I explained more of the flow, pointing at diagrams, avoiding unnecessary eye contact. But I felt it — that silent pull between the words. The heaviness in the pauses.

When he handed me a note from his folder, our fingers brushed.

Small. Should’ve meant nothing.

But my chest tightened.

I blinked twice and quickly took the paper. “Thanks.”

The meeting ended without drama. No talk of the past. No lingering goodbyes.

But as I stepped out of the room, heart pounding for reasons I hated, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass door.

You’re not in love anymore, remember?

Then why did it feel like my system — the one inside my chest — was starting to crash?