Chapter 9 – Collisions
622 Words
Elena wasn’t supposed to be there.
At least, not at that exact time, not in that exact room.
She had agreed to help Chi set up for a gallery’s charity auction — a last-minute request when one of the volunteers called in sick. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out: hang the pieces, check the lighting, maybe sip a glass of wine before slipping home.
But as she walked in with a stack of framed canvases, the low hum of conversation told her this was no quiet setup. The event was already in full swing. And there he was.
Daniel.
In a navy suit that made him look even taller, even more impossibly composed. Laughing softly at something Maya had said, glass of champagne in hand.
---
For a moment, her feet froze. The noise of the room dulled into a muted hum, like she was underwater.
He saw her almost instantly — his gaze lifting over the crowd, catching hers, holding it for just a heartbeat too long.
Elena’s stomach twisted.
She forced herself to break eye contact, busying herself with setting down the canvases on a table.
---
Maya noticed the exchange, of course.
She leaned in toward Daniel, murmuring something that made him stiffen slightly. His reply was curt, his eyes flicking back to Elena like a reflex.
He wanted to talk to her — she could see it in the way he shifted his weight, the way his jaw worked. But then someone from the board stepped in, pulling him into another conversation.
---
Elena retreated to the far end of the gallery, pretending to check the hanging wires on a landscape painting. Her hands were steady, but her heart was not. She could feel him somewhere behind her, like the heat of the sun even when you’re turned away from it.
Chi, of course, swooped in like a hawk.
“You didn’t tell me he’d be here,” she whispered.
“I didn’t know.”
“Well, you can’t just hide in the corner all night. This is your moment. Either you talk to him, or you’ll regret it later.”
Elena shook her head. “Not now. Not here.”
---
But fate has a way of ignoring your plans.
Twenty minutes later, she was carrying a tray of champagne flutes toward a side table when someone bumped her from behind.
The tray tilted, glasses rattling — and Daniel’s hand shot out, steadying it before disaster struck.
Her breath caught. His touch was warm, firm, achingly familiar.
“Careful,” he said quietly.
“Thanks,” she murmured, eyes fixed on the tray.
---
They stood there for a moment, too close, the air thick with all the things they hadn’t said.
Finally, he spoke. “We should talk.”
She hesitated, then nodded toward a side hallway lined with smaller exhibits. “Five minutes.”
---
They slipped away from the crowd, their footsteps echoing on the polished floor.
Inside the quiet hallway, away from the champagne laughter and clinking glasses, it was just them.
Daniel’s voice was low. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“You’ve been busy,” she replied, a little too sharply.
He sighed. “Elena, I didn’t—”
“Don’t,” she cut in, her eyes glinting. “Don’t pretend you didn’t shut me out too. It wasn’t just me.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then, softer: “I missed you,” he said.
Something inside her cracked at that, but she didn’t let it show.
“I should get back,” she whispered, turning to leave.
And that’s when he caught her wrist — not hard, but enough to stop her. Enough to make her heart stutter.
- Writer
