We Were Never Meant To Last

Backstory Three years ago, Sophie and Ethan were inseparable — best friends with a dangerous undercurrent neither admitted to. One night, in a blur of laughter and too much wine, they crossed the line. It was messy, it was perfect… until Ethan disappeared the next morning without a word. Sophie found out a week later he’d taken a job in another city — and worse, he’d been engaged to someone else at the time. Now, Sophie’s working as the PR manager for a luxury hotel chain. She thought she’d buried the past… until the company hires a new marketing director. Ethan Cross walks in, wearing the same smirk she once kissed off his lips. Chapter 1 — The Wrong Kind of Familiar ⸻ The elevator doors slid open, and Sophie nearly dropped her coffee. No. Not him. Not here. Ethan Cross strolled out like he owned the floor — suit crisp, tie loose enough to hint at sin, and that stupid dimple she’d once sworn she’d never notice again. Their eyes locked. “Blake,” he said, his voice the same deep, infuriating drawl she remembered. “Ethan,” she replied coolly, taking a sip of her coffee like she wasn’t internally screaming. Three years. She’d rehearsed this moment in her head a hundred times, but none of her imaginary comebacks were appropriate for an office setting. “You’re the new marketing director?” she asked, keeping her tone flat. He grinned, like he could still read her mind. “Looks like we’ll be working… closely.” Sophie’s stomach tightened — and not from hatred alone. “Try not to get in my way,” she said, brushing past him. His chuckle followed her down the hall. God help her. Sophie kept walking down the hall, her heels clicking against the marble floor like tiny declarations of war. She could feel him watching her. She hated that her skin noticed before her brain did. “Still drink your coffee black?” he called after her. She stopped. Just for a fraction of a second. And that was all he needed. “That was a guess,” she said without turning around. “Or maybe you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” When she finally looked back, his smirk was there — the kind of smirk that wasn’t just confident, it was knowing. “You’re not easy to forget, Blake.” Her throat went dry, but she covered it with a scoff. “Shame I can’t say the same.” His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he wanted to fire back but decided not to. Instead, he stepped closer — close enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne, sharp and warm, the same one he used to wear. Her chest tightened. That scent had been in her sheets once. He didn’t speak. Just looked at her like he was cataloguing every inch of her face, every tiny change since the last time he’d seen her. It was Sophie who broke the moment. “Enjoy your first day, Cross. Try not to get lost — this building’s easy to get turned around in.” He grinned like she’d just told him a secret. “I never get lost. I always know exactly where I’m going.” And just like that, he walked away. Sophie let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, her coffee now lukewarm in her hands. This was going to be hell. By the time Sophie reached her office, her heart was still doing that irritating thing — thumping harder than it should over a man she’d sworn off like a bad habit. She set her coffee down, logged into her computer, and told herself to forget he existed. Easier said than done. Because five minutes later, there was a knock on her door. She didn’t bother looking up. “If you’re here to dump more files on me, leave them on the desk.” “That’s not a very warm welcome,” a deep voice replied. Her stomach sank. She looked up. Ethan stood in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a folder. His tie was a little looser now, and Sophie hated herself for noticing how good he looked in charcoal grey. “What do you want?” she asked flatly. “Your signature,” he said, stepping inside. “And maybe a smile, if you’re feeling generous.” She snatched the folder from him, flipping through the documents without reading a word. “You’ll get one but not the other.” “Still stingy with affection, I see,” he murmured, leaning casually against her desk. Sophie’s pen paused mid-signature. “Still assuming you deserve any.” His eyes darkened — not with anger exactly, but with something heavier. He studied her like he was piecing together an old puzzle. She pushed the folder back toward him. “There. Anything else?” He didn’t take it. Instead, he reached for her coffee mug, lifted it to his lips, and took a sip. Sophie froze. “What the hell are you—” “Still drink it black,” he said, setting it back down. “Some things don’t change.” She hated the way her pulse reacted to that — like her body remembered more than her brain wanted to. “You can leave now,” she said, her voice low, dangerous. He finally picked up the folder, that infuriating half-smile tugging at his mouth. “See you in the meeting later, Blake. Don’t be late.” And with that, he was gone, leaving her office smelling faintly of his cologne and arrogance. Sophie leaned back in her chair, staring at the door long after it closed. This was going to be a long day.