Chapter 9 — Dinner for Two
727 Words
Lana’s POV
I told myself it was just dinner. A simple meal, two professionals talking about work.
But the moment I stepped out of the elevator and saw Daniel already waiting in the hotel restaurant — black shirt, sleeves rolled, no tie, calm as ever — I knew I’d been lying to myself.
He stood when he saw me, polite as always. “You look… nice.”
I smiled, because I had to. “You sound surprised.”
“Not surprised,” he said, his lips twitching slightly. “Just stating facts.”
We sat down. The waiter handed us menus that I barely looked at. My brain was too busy trying not to remember how it used to feel to sit across from him — back when dinner meant laughter, not silence.
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He started the conversation with the safest things he could think of — numbers, client reports, market updates, the kind of topics that kept everything polite, professional, and far from the past.
I matched his tone, nodding, pretending to be focused. But every now and then, our eyes would meet, and it was like being pulled back to something I’d worked hard to forget.
After a while, the business talk faded on its own. The waiter poured wine, and the silence stretched again, softer this time.
“You still don’t drink much,” Daniel said finally.
I laughed quietly. “You still remember that?”
He shrugged. “I remember a lot of things.”
My heart skipped. I took a slow sip of water, pretending not to notice.
---
When the food arrived, I couldn’t taste much of it. The restaurant buzzed with low chatter, the sound of cutlery, the faint notes of a piano playing somewhere near the bar.
I glanced up and caught him watching me again. Not in a way that made me uncomfortable — in a way that made me feel seen.
He looked away. “I didn’t expect you’d take the position.”
“Neither did I,” I admitted. “But I needed a change.”
His jaw tensed slightly. “And you chose Extra?”
He looked away first this time. “I didn’t expect you’d take the position.”
“Neither did I,” I admitted, my voice low. “But I needed a change.”
His jaw tensed slightly. “And you chose Extra?”
I met his gaze. “I didn’t take the job because of you. I didn’t even know you were behind it. But maybe it makes sense now — the way this place feels familiar.”
He froze, his fork halfway to his plate.
Then his voice dropped a little. “I never forgot where it started.”
The weight of those words hung between us, heavy and quiet.
The weight of those words hung between us, heavy and quiet.
---
We finished eating in silence. The waiter cleared the table, but neither of us moved. The air between us had shifted again — not quite anger, not quite ease. Something else.
I folded my napkin slowly. “It’s late. I should—”
“Lana,” he said, cutting in softly.
I looked up.
He leaned forward just slightly, elbows resting on the table. His tone was calm, but his eyes..they were the same eyes that used to look at me like I was the only person in the room.
“I don’t know what you think happened back then,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t build this to erase you.”
My throat felt tight. I wanted to say something. Anything. But the words wouldn’t come.
So I just stood up. “Goodnight, Daniel.”
He didn’t try to stop me. But when I turned away, I heard him whisper something under his breath — too soft to be sure, but I thought I caught it anyway.
“It was always supposed to be us.”
I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.
---
Back in my room, I kicked off my heels and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection in the window.
Paris glowed beneath me — alive, loud, full of light.
But all I could feel was the weight of his voice.
It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t regret.
It was longing.
And maybe, somewhere deep down… mine matched it.
- Writer
