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1523 Words
The Knight Tech redesign project started faster than I expected.
After the pitch, contracts were signed within days. My team was thrilled—major budget, full creative control, and a timeline that gave us room to make it spectacular. I should've been all business.
But working with Alex's company meant working with Alex.
He kept his word at first. Communication went through project managers. Emails were professional. Site visits were scheduled with his facilities team present.
Then the late nights started.
The headquarters building was old-school iconic glass and steel from the early 2000s, prime location downtown. We needed to gut half the executive floor and reconfigure open workspaces. That meant after-hours access to avoid disrupting employees.
First time it happened: a Thursday, 9 p.m. My team had left. I stayed to measure the CEO's office suite myself—wanted exact dimensions for custom built-ins.
I heard the elevator ding.
Footsteps.
Alex appeared in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, tie gone, holding two takeout coffees.
"Figured you'd still be here," he said quietly. "Decaf latte, two sugars. Still your order?"
I straightened, tape measure in hand. "You remembered."
"I remember everything."
He set the coffee on the desk my future desk for the project and leaned against the doorframe. Not crowding. Just... there.
"I can go if you want," he added.
I should've said yes.
Instead, I took the coffee. "Thanks."
We ended up talking shop for an hour lighting plans, material samples, flow between floors. Easy. Professional. Like old times when I'd bounce ideas off him before the world fell apart.
When I packed up to leave, he walked me to the elevator.
"Drive safe," he said.
I nodded. "Night, Alex."
Second time: a week later. Rain pouring outside. My junior designer called in sick, so I was alone again, installing sample wall finishes in a conference room.
Door opened. Alex again, this time with umbrellas and Thai takeout.
"Pad thai, no peanuts," he said. "In case you're still allergic."
I wasn't hungry until I smelled it.
We ate on the floor, backs against the wall, papers spread between us.
Conversation drifted. Not to us. To safer things his latest product launch, my hotel project, mutual friends.
But the air felt heavier. Charged.
When lightning flashed outside, thunder rumbling, I jumped a little.
He noticed. "Still hate storms?"
"Yeah."
He didn't say anything. Just shifted closer until our shoulders almost touched.
I didn't move away.
Third time: two weeks in. Midnight. I was exhausted, paint swatches everywhere, trying to decide between two shades of navy for the boardroom.
Alex showed up in jeans and a hoodie casual in a way I hadn't seen in years.
"Couldn't sleep," he admitted. "Saw the lights on from the street."
He helped me hold samples against the wall under different lighting. Debated warm undertones vs. cool.
At one point, we reached for the same swatch. Fingers brushed.
We both froze.
The room went silent except for the hum of the AC.
He didn't pull away.
Neither did I.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
"Bella..."
I stood quickly. "I should go."
He caught my wrist gently. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean"
"You didn't," I said, voice shaky. "But we can't."
He let go immediately. "I know."
I grabbed my bag and left without another word.
But the next night? I stayed late again.
Knowing he might show.
And when he did this time with hot chocolate and that quiet, steady presence—I didn't send him away.
We talked until 2 a.m. About everything and nothing. Not the past. Not the betrayal. Just... us. The people we used to be.
When I finally stood to leave, he walked me to my car in the garage.
Rain had stopped. City quiet. Just our footsteps echoing.
At my car, I turned to say goodnight.
He was closer than I expected.
"Bella," he whispered. "I'm not asking for anything. I just... I miss talking to you."
I swallowed hard. "I miss it too. Sometimes."
His eyes searched mine. Hope flickering. Dangerous.
I opened my car door. "But that doesn't change anything."
He nodded. "I know."
I drove home with my heart racing.
Because I was starting to wonder if I still believed that.
And that terrified me more than any storm ever could.
he Knight Tech project was in full swing, and so was the chaos in my head.
Three months of late nights, shared coffees, and conversations that danced dangerously close to the line. Alex never pushed—never crossed into begging or declarations but the way he looked at me? Like I was the only thing keeping him breathing.
I told myself it was fine. Professional. Harmless.
Until the annual Tech Innovators Gala.
It was the biggest event of the year black-tie, red carpet, every major player in the industry under one roof. Knight Tech was a platinum sponsor, so attendance was basically mandatory for both of us. My firm had a table too, thanks to the buzz from recent projects.
I'd planned to go solo. Keep it simple.
Then Ethan happened.
Ethan Harper charming venture capitalist I'd met at a networking lunch a few weeks ago. Tall, easy smile, zero baggage (at least none he'd mentioned). He'd asked me out twice. I'd said yes to coffee once, dinner the second time. Nothing serious, but... nice. Normal. A reminder that life existed outside Alex's orbit.
When he heard about the gala, he grinned. "Let me be your plus-one. I've got a tux collecting dust."
I said yes. Partly because he was fun. Partly because I needed armor.
The night of the gala, I wore red.
Crimson silk, floor-length, low back, thigh-high slit. Hair in loose waves, diamonds in my ears (new ones I'd bought myself). Mia zipped me up and whistled.
"You're gonna break hearts tonight."
"One in particular," I muttered.
The venue was stunning crystal chandeliers, live orchestra, champagne towers. Ethan was a perfect date: hand on my lower back, introducing me to investors, making me laugh with his dry humor.
We were posing for photos near the entrance when I felt it again—that stare.
Alex.
He stood across the room in a black tux that fit like sin, drink in hand, surrounded by executives. But his eyes were locked on me. On Ethan's hand. On the way I smiled up at my date.
His jaw tightened.
I looked away first.
Throughout dinner, I felt him watching. When Ethan leaned in to whisper a joke, Alex's grip on his glass went white-knuckled from across the tables. When we danced slow song, nothing scandalous—Alex excused himself from his group and disappeared onto the balcony.
I tried to ignore it.
But when Ethan got pulled into a conversation with potential clients after dessert, I slipped away for air.
The balcony doors were open. Cool night breeze. City lights below.
And Alex, alone, leaning against the railing.
He didn't turn when I stepped out.
"You having fun?" he asked, voice low.
I stayed by the door. "Yes. Ethan's great company."
Silence.
Then: "He's touching you a lot."
I crossed my arms. "He's my date."
Alex turned then. Eyes dark. "Is he more than that?"
"That's none of your business."
He laughed, bitter. "Right. Because I lost the right to care."
"You did."
He stepped closer. "Doesn't mean I stopped."
My heart hammered. "Alex"
"I see the way he looks at you," he said, voice rough. "Like he wants you. And you're smiling at him like" He stopped. Swallowed. "Like you used to smile at me."
Jealousy rolled off him in waves. Possessive. Raw.
I should've walked away.
Instead: "And how does that feel?"
He stared at me. "Like hell."
"Good."
His eyes flashed. "You want me to suffer?"
"I want you to understand," I said, stepping forward. "Even a fraction of what I felt. Watching you with her. Knowing you chose her, even for a moment."
He flinched like I'd slapped him.
"I didn't choose her," he whispered. "I chose stupidity. Weakness. And I've hated myself every day since."
We were close now. Too close.
"I watch you with him," he continued, voice breaking, "and it's killing me. Thinking someone else gets to make you laugh. Hold you. Touch you."
His hand lifted like he wanted to reach for me but dropped.
"You're glowing, Bella. Happier than you were with me at the end. And I hate that I'm not the reason. But I love that you are. Even if it's without me."
Tears pricked my eyes. Damn him.
I turned to go.
His voice stopped me. "If he hurts you... I'll still be here. Waiting. Always."
I didn't answer.
Just walked back inside.
Ethan found me minutes later. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," I lied. "Just needed air."
He smiled, offered his arm for the next dance.
I took it.
But as we moved across the floor, my eyes found Alex across the room.
He hadn't moved.
Just stood there.
Watching.
And for the first time in months, I wondered if I was really as over him as I thought.
Because jealousy?
It cuts both ways
- Writer
