Unscripted After

Chapter 4

Talia’s POV

The library smelled of aged paper, polished wood, and quiet ambition. I sank into my usual corner, my notebook open on the small desk before me. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden beams. The world was calm here, orderly, predictable, the exact opposite of my heart.

I lifted my pen, trying to write, trying to focus on my manuscript. But the words blurred. Every sentence twisted itself into thoughts of him. Cassian. His smile. The proposal. My chest thudded like a drum as I tapped the pen against the page, willing the narrative forward.

Students breezed past, fingers tapping on laptops, whispered conversations floating like ghosts, a girl shuffling by with a teetering stack of books. And there I was, stuck in my own bubble, crumpled pages scattered around me, my thoughts spinning as fast as my pen.

The floor was littered with discarded attempts at my manuscript, paragraphs abandoned mid-thought, words that never quite captured what I meant. In the corner of the page I was currently working on, I jotted tiny, tentative notes about boundaries for the proposal, reminders, not commitments. A mental checklist made visible on paper:

Rule one: protect my heart.

Rule two: stay rational.

Rule three: treat this like a business plan, not romance.

I scribbled frantically, anticipating every scenario, every possible pitfall. No mixed signals. No touching. No letting my feelings run wild. Separate bedrooms. Clear end date. Total clarity.

Even as I wrote, my mind twisted the possibilities over and over:

What if I said yes and he never saw me the way I saw him?

What if six months later I was left picking up pieces of whatever was left of us?

What if this whole thing exploded and destroyed our friendship?

I groaned and balled another page in my hand, tossing it into the growing pile of crumpled manuscript attempts. My chest was tight, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs. I buried my face in my hands, trying to steady my thoughts.

I could plan, strategize, prepare for every scenario. I could set boundaries.

I just couldn’t decide yet.

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Cassian’s POV

Meanwhile, in the conference room at Locke Group, Cassian sat at the long polished table with the board of directors, quarterly reports spread before him. Everyone was mid-discussion, slides flashing, figures analyzed, but his attention kept drifting to her.

He had been confident he’d timed the proposal perfectly, but doubt crept in. Had he brought it up too soon? Had he pressured her, even unintentionally? His fingers drummed against the tabletop.

A junior analyst cleared her throat. “Mr. Locke? Are you following?”

“Uh… yes. Sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. Heads turned. A few raised eyebrows. Cassian distracted? Almost unheard of.

Even here, he allowed himself a small mental image: Talia, in her cozy library corner, pen in hand, brow furrowed, probably crumpling paper in frustration while jotting tiny reminders about limits and boundaries. He knew her well enough to picture the habits that made her, her.

He hoped he hadn’t forced her into a corner. He wanted her decision to be hers and hers alone—not something she felt pressured into.

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Talia’s POV

I exhaled and gathered the crumpled sheets into a small pile, stacking them beside my notebook. My pen hovered over a fresh page, heartbeat still racing.

Yes? No? Maybe?

I didn’t know.

And maybe that was fine. For now, I could prepare, plan, think… and hope that when the time came, I wouldn’t make the wrong choice.