Scorned No More

Regret Always Comes Late

It started with a knock.

Not a text.

Not a call.

A knock.

I opened the office door and there he was.

Kian Blake.

Wearing that same jacket I bought him two Christmases ago. He even styled his hair the way I used to like.

“Celeste,” he said, soft and unsure.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.

“Can I talk to you?” he added. “Just… five minutes.”

The last time he asked me for five minutes, I caught him kissing Lexa.

“You have two,” I said.

He stepped inside slowly, looking around like he couldn’t believe where I was now. Who I was.

“This place is… impressive,” he said.

“It is.”

“You’ve really… changed.”

“I had to.”

There was silence. Heavy and tight.

Then he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I didn’t know what I had until I lost it. I thought—maybe—I was doing the right thing. That Lexa just… got me.”

I almost laughed.

“She got something alright,” I said. “My best friend’s title. My boyfriend. My brand colors.”

That one hit.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If I could go back—”

“You can’t,” I interrupted. “And even if you could, I wouldn’t be waiting.”

That’s when the door opened again.

“Kian, babe—why didn’t you wait for me?”

Lexa.

Of course.

Her voice too loud. Her heels too high. Her perfume too sweet.

She stopped dead when she saw me.

“Oh,” she said with the fakest surprise I’d ever seen. “You didn’t say you were visiting her.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” he muttered.

Lexa pouted. “I mean, I just thought we agreed not to bring up the past. It’s not healthy to—”

“Lexa,” I cut in. “Why are you here?”

She blinked. “To support Kian.”

“You already did that,” I said coolly. “In my old apartment. On my old couch.”

Lexa’s mouth fell open. “You’re still bitter?”

“No,” I said. “I’m better.”

Kian looked between us, miserable.

“Celeste, I just wanted to say I regret everything. I really do.”

I took a breath. Straightened my shoulders.

And smiled.

“I don’t.”

I walked to the door. Opened it. Held it.

“You two can leave now. I’ve got a business to run. A future to build. And zero interest in playing memory lane with people who only know how to take.”

Lexa scoffed. “Wow. So dramatic.”

“Funny,” I said. “That’s what people usually say about liars when the truth finally hits.”

They left.

Slow. Quiet. Ashamed.

And me?

I sat back down at my desk.

Unbothered.

Because regret always comes late.

But my boundaries?

They show up right on time.