Can't get over you

Chapter 10

The pre-dinner mixer was already alive when we arrived—soft music, bursts of laughter, the clinking of glasses against tall champagne flutes. Lights bounced gently off chandeliers, casting a warm glow over silk dresses and polished shoes.

Tara clung to my arm as we stepped in. Her grip was tight.

“Breathe,” I whispered. “We don’t have to stay long,” I said.

“Easy for you to say. You’ve done this before.”

“I’ve panicked at events too, you know. Once I locked myself in the bathroom at my first internship dinner.”

We both laughed.

Tara lit up a little.

“Because I’m a disaster, but I survive. And so will you.”

She laughed—nervous but real. “Why does that actually make me feel better?”

I smiled at her, touched by her bravery. “You’ve always been her, Tara. She just got quiet for a while. But she never left.”

Tara took the glass and sipped, straightening her shoulders with a little more confidence. “Let’s just not breathe too deeply near the bar.”

Layla waved us over from the corner. “Farah! Tara! You made it!”

“You look amazing!” Layla pulled us into a quick hug. “You okay?”

Tara nodded. “Getting there.”

“Yeah.”

“Good to see you again,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”

Aaron approached, his eyes searching Tara’s face before his arms gently opened. She hesitated, then stepped into his embrace. Slowly. Almost like she was testing if it was real. She closed her eyes against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her carefully, like she was glass. She didn’t speak. Just closed her eyes and let out a breath she’d been holding for days.

I watched them from across the room. It was strange seeing him like that—so warm, so open. The kind of gentleness I'd forgotten he was capable of. Their expressions softened in a way that almost startled me.

Tara’s smile faltered. “Is that...”

I watched the way Tara clung to him. The way his hands stayed gently on her back.

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

Tara blinked, caught off guard. “I...”

“You’ve got people in your corner,” he murmured. “Don’t ever forget that.”

From beside me, Layla leaned in. “Did he just... hug someone without breaking into hives?”

I smirked, blinking past the sudden burn in my chest. “Guess he’s full of surprises.”

Layla leaned toward me. “Didn’t know he was capable of that.”

“Good. We’re glad you’re here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

She nodded, her face buried in his shoulder.

I turned just in time to see Aaron approaching.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Come here.”

I was reviewing a tech checklist near the back when I heard a laugh—his laugh—richer than usual.

Aaron stood near one of the catering leads, a woman in red with a voice like silk.

She laughed. Flirted. Touched his chest lightly.

“Something in my chest twisted. Something closer to grief. Not the good kind.”

I felt heat rise in my cheeks. The kind that starts low and creeps its way up to the ears, betraying everything you try to bury.

I was happy. Genuinely. But I couldn’t let myself—I wanted to be held like that, too.

They were just talking. Just smiling. But it was too familiar. Too easy.

“Careful. I might hold you to that,” she said, leaning in.

“Well,” she said, stepping closer, “maybe you can pay me back. Coffee sometime?”

“Come on,” Layla nudged me, “let’s get a drink before your face gives you away.”

I should have looked away. Focused on my checklist. But I couldn’t. I watched until I hated what I was feeling.

“Not jealousy. Not exactly.”

“With the caterer. The flirting.”

He blinked, incredulous. “That’s what you’re upset about?”

I didn’t realize how tightly I was holding the clipboard until it bent under my grip.

I spun. He was behind me already, eyes shadowed.

“What was that?” I said. “Back there.”

His brow lifted. “What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb. You knew what you were doing.”

He folded his arms. “What do you want from me, Farah?”

I laughed. Sharp. Bitter. “Right. That’s what you remember.”

“Farah—”

“You cut ME off, remember?” He emphasized like it hurt him to recall. “One day you were there. The next, I was staring at a blocked screen and empty messages.”

I looked away.

“You think I was—”

“You never reassured me. You just let me drown in doubt until I couldn’t breathe.”

He took a step closer. “If you thought something was wrong, you could have asked. You didn’t even give me a chance to—”

“A chance?” I laughed again, this time softer but no less furious. “You had so many chances. You watched me unravel. Watched me beg with my silence. You saw it all and did nothing.”

“I think... you cared just enough to keep me close, but not enough to fight when I started slipping.”

“I don’t know what to think!” My hands flew up. “You made sure of that. You never explained. You never said I was enough. You just kept smiling at your phone, walking away to answer calls, flipping your screen down every time I got close. I didn’t imagine that.”

He was quiet. His expression unreadable.

Aaron looked down, exhaled sharply. “You really think I didn’t care?”

“And you know what?” I said, voice firm now. “You’re right. It’s your life. Do whatever you like. I don’t care anymore.”

“You can’t be angry with me for walking away from a place that felt like slow death,” I said. “You can’t be angry now just because someone else is getting blamed for the silence you handed me first.”

“I’m not implying anything,” I snapped. “I’m just saying... if someone had done all that to you, you wouldn’t have waited around to be told the truth either.”

---

After everything was in place, Layla clapped her hands together, calling everyone into a loose circle.

“Alright! Everyone staying at the hotel, check in now. Tomorrow’s the big day. Dinner starts at six sharp. Be ready to sparkle, people.”

There was a collective sigh of relief, laughter rippling through the team.

I packed up the last few folders and glanced over at Tara. She looked tired, but okay. Her eyes met mine and she gave a small nod. We’d made it through the day.

We walked together across the lobby, the gentle buzz of excited voices around us fading as we reached the elevator.

“You okay?” she asked, adjusting the strap on her bag.

“No,” I said honestly. “But I will be.”

“Thanks for today,” she whispered into the dark.

We changed, crawled into our twin beds, and lay in the quiet. The room smelled like fresh linen and stress.

She didn’t reply. Just pulled the blanket closer to her chin.

And in the back of my mind, I kept seeing his smile.

Not for me.

And I wasn’t ready for what would come after.