Falling for the Enemy

Ch.5

Althea's Pov

I slam the door of my refrigerator with more force than necessary, a bottle of Coca-Cola clutched in my hand.

Eva jumps at the sound, looking up from where she's dicing tomatoes for our dinner. "Easy there, killer. That fridge never did anything to you."

"Sorry," I mutter, setting the drink on the counter with a gentler touch. "It's been a day." That's the understatement of the century. It's been more than a day. It's been a nuclear bomb dropped directly into the middle of my carefully constructed life.

Eva gives me a knowing look as she scrapes the tomatoes into a bowl. "You going to tell me what's really going on between you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Loaded? Because that was a whole lot of 'complicated history' I witnessed today." I busy myself with uncorking the drink, avoiding her eyes.

"Hand me the glasses?" She reaches into my cabinet for two glasses, then leans against the counter, arms folded. "I'm not letting this go, you know."

"I know." I pour us each a generous serving. "But I need at least half this glass before I can talk about Eros." Eva accepts her wine with a small toast. "To surviving unexpected corporate boss."

"And unexpected ghosts from the past," I add, taking a substantial sip. We work in companionable silence for a few minutes, falling into the rhythm we've established over years of friendship. Eva seasons the salmon while I prepare the rice, and soon my kitchen is filled with the aroma of stew and fish as everything sizzles in the pan.

"So," she says, as we settle at my small dining table with our plates. "Are you ready to spill?"

I take another fortifying sip of drink. "Eros and I go way back. College. We were best friends, inseparable really."

"Friends? Or friends?" She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

"Just friends," I clarify. "We took the same business classes. Studied together… dreamed together. Tried to get a business going together."

"But?"

"But nothing. We were friends, that's all." I stab a piece of salmon with unnecessary force. "After graduation, we got started launching our business. We had everything planned out — business model, potential clients, even office space."

"What happened?" The drink suddenly tastes bitter on my tongue. "He told me he had feelings for me." Eva's eyes widen. "And that was… bad?"

"It wasn't that," I say, pushing my salmon around the plate. "It was the timing. We were just about to launch. We had our first investor in the bag. Everything was set, and then he springs this on me."

"Heaven forbid someone have feelings for you," she chuckles.

"You don't understand. We had a good thing going. We were partners, equals. Then suddenly he's looking at me differently, expecting something more."

"Did you feel the same way?" I hesitate, the question hanging in the air between us. Did I? The truth is more complicated than I want to admit, even to myself. "It doesn't matter how I felt," I say finally.

"Two days after his confession, he said he was quitting our project. Changed his number, moved out of his apartment. Left me to handle everything — the investor meetings, the paperwork, all of it." Her expression shifts from teasing to concerned.

"Seriously? He just ghosted you?"

"Completely. The investment fell through. I couldn't run the business alone. Everything we'd worked for just… imploded." I take another large swallow of the drink. "I had to start over from scratch."

"And now he's your boss. Talk about a plot twist."

"Yeah." I laugh, but there's no amusement in it. "The universe has a sick sense of humor."

"Wait, I don't get it," Eva says, setting down her fork. "Why did he leave? Just because he told you he liked you?"

"I told him I needed time to think. It was a lot to process. Our whole relationship would have changed."

"And he couldn't handle that?"

"Apparently not." I move to the kitchen for the drink bottle, refilling both our glasses.

"But that's Eros for you. Always has to be in control. When he couldn't control the situation — control me — he bailed." The memory still stings, even after all these years. I had no idea when he walked out my apartment door that night that it would be the last time I saw him. I’ve replayed the memory here and there, always wondering if I should have done something differently, always coming to the same conclusion – that I did what was right for myself at the time.

"That's harsh," Eva says softly. "But maybe he misunderstood. Did you ever try to explain?"

"How could I? He vanished. Told me he had another opportunity he needed to follow or whatever. And then I heard through mutual friends that he'd taken a job at some fancy ass prestigious firm. He moved on so easily. Like I— like our dreams meant nothing."

"And now he's back," Eva says. "With enough money to help change your life. That's some serious karma."

"It's not karma," I protest. "It's just… bad luck."

"Or maybe it's a chance to clear the air," she suggests.

"Twelve years is a long time to carry around that kind of baggage." I shake my head.

"There's nothing to clear up. He bailed when things got complicated. He's shown me exactly who he is."

"People change, Althea. Maybe he has."

"You saw him today in his fancy suit and his talk about 'financial metrics'." I make air quotes with my fingers.

"He's become exactly the kind of businessman we used to criticize in college." She gives me a knowing look.

"Sure, but… he's also become exactly the kind of man who makes you all hot and bothered."

"What? No!" But even as I deny it, I feel heat rising to my cheeks. "I hate him."

"Uh-huh. That's why you've barely eaten any of your dinner while talking about him." I look down at my mostly untouched salmon. "That's not… I was just caught off guard seeing him again."

"Sure," Eva says, her tone making it clear she doesn't believe me. "And I suppose you didn't notice how good he looks in that suit either."

"I didn't," I lie. But I did notice. Of course, I noticed. The way the tailored jacket accentuated his broad shoulders. The confidence in his stance. The way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck. Not that I'd ever admit that out loud.

"Well, I'm just saying," she continues. “All that passion has to come from somewhere. And hatred and love are two sides of the same coin."

"This isn't a romance novel, Eva. This is my life. And my job, which is now in the hands of a man who abandoned me when I needed him most." She holds up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll drop it. But for what it's worth, I think there's more to this story than either of you is admitting."

After dinner, Eva helps me clean up, our conversation shifting to safer topics: the latest office gossip, her date this weekend with someone she met on an app, and an upcoming plant sale we plan to visit. By the time she leaves, it's nearly eleven, and the weight of the day comes crashing down on me. I should sleep. Tomorrow will be another battle in the war that has suddenly become my professional life. Instead, I find myself pulling a dusty shoebox from the back of my closet. Inside are remnants of a life I've tried to forget. Photos, business cards, and a weathered leather-bound notebook filled with ideas scribbled in two different handwritings — mine and Eros's.

I trace his neat penmanship with my fingertip, remembering how we used to finish each other's sentences, both on paper and in life. There's a photo of us at graduation, arms around each other's shoulders, our faces alight with the promise of the future. Another from a business competition we won our junior year, a trophy held high between us. We look so young, so hopeful. So unaware of how quickly it would all fall apart. I flip through the notebook until I find our original business plan, the one we'd stayed up three nights in a row perfecting. ‘Better Investments: Where Values Meet Profit’, the header reads. The motto makes me smile despite myself. We were so idealistic then. Tucked into the back of the notebook, I find a note I'd forgotten about.

Eros's handwriting, scrawled on a Post-it: ‘Meeting ran late. Brought you coffee. Let's crush this presentation tomorrow! -O’ Simple, ordinary. Yet it brings tears to my eyes. This was the Eros I knew. The one who remembered how I took my coffee, who believed in our shared vision so completely. Not the polished stranger with cedi signs in his eyes. How did we go from that to this? How did he become someone who could look at me like I'm just another asset to be evaluated? I close the notebook and press it to my chest, allowing myself a moment of pure, unfiltered emotions.

Anger. Hurt. Confusion. And… something else, something I'm not ready to name.

It would be so much easier if I could just hate him. Clean, simple hatred. But the truth is messier, more complicated. Even as I resent what he did, I can't deny the current of something else that ran through me today when our eyes met. There was a pull, a recognition. A memory of what we once meant to each other. And that's the most dangerous part of all. Because Eros might be my boss, but I'll be damned if I let him see that he still owns a piece of my heart.