Chapter 7
573 Words
CHAPTER SEVEN:
THE WORLD WITHOUT HER
The world welcomed him back like nothing had changed.
Private jets. Boardrooms wrapped in glass. Applause disguised as respect. Contracts signed with pens that cost more than most people’s rent.
From the outside, he was winning.
From the inside, he was unraveling.
Every city reminded him of Petra in ways that made no sense. A woman laughing in a hotel lobby. A shadow crossing a hallway. The faint scent of her perfume, soft, almost apologetic, caught in passing and gone before he could turn.
At night, alone in unfamiliar beds, he stared at ceilings and replayed her voice.
You don’t belong in this version of my life.
He wondered if she believed she belonged anywhere at all.
She tried to disappear properly this time.
New routine. New rules. Fewer clients. Less eye contact. More walls.
But his words followed her like a ghost.
I belong wherever you are.
She hated that they still affected her. Hated that when she closed her eyes, she remembered the way he touched her, not like something to be taken, but something to be kept.
That was the problem.
He had made her feel chosen.
And once a woman tastes that, survival feels emptier than before.
Greyson’s friends noticed the change.
“You’re distracted,” one of them said over drinks in Paris.
“You’ve been turning down women you wouldn’t have blinked at before.”
He smiled without humor. “Maybe I’m tired.”
“Tired of what?”
He didn’t answer.
How could he explain that no one else felt right? That every flirtation felt hollow, every touch forgettable? That the only woman who had ever made him feel stripped of power had no interest in being saved by it?
They called it obsession.
He called it clarity.
Months passed.
Then came the invitation.
A charity gala abroad. Powerful men. Discreet indulgences. The kind of event where wealth wore masks and morality checked itself at the door.
He almost declined.
Almost.
Something in his chest tightened as he read the location. A pull he had learned not to ignore.
That night, under chandeliers and soft music, he saw a lady.
She moved through the room like she didn’t belong to herself, smiling when required, eyes distant, body present but spirit elsewhere. Dressed beautifully. Hollowly.
He followed quietly, till he discovered it was Petra.
Anger surged through him, not at her, but at the men who looked at her without seeing.
When he caught her wrist near a hidden corridor, she spun around, eyes flashing.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“You can’t”
He pulled her into the shadows, heart pounding.
“ What is it you want?” he demanded. “This life?”
She laughed bitterly. “You again? Why do you keep doing this to me?”
“Because you won’t let me stop.”
Her voice rose, sharp with frustration and fear.
“Why are you stalking me? Why won’t you leave me alone?”
Something inside him snapped.
He stepped closer, voice loud, raw, unguarded.
“Because it’s you I want.”
Silence swallowed them whole.
Her anger faltered. Her breath hitched.
For the first time, she had no shield ready.
He released her wrist slowly, letting the words hang between them like a truth neither could take back.
Without another word, she turned and walked away.
But this time..
She didn’t forget.
- Writer
