After Us

Present day-Subtle tension

The moment the glass exits click shut behind Ashley, the room feels twenty degrees warmer for Layla.

The silence was sharper than it needed to be—or maybe it feels that way because of who she was stuck with. She stared down at her notebook, gripping her pen a little tighter than she intended. She didn’t know what was holding her up from looking up, or maybe she did but still didn’t admit it.

Evan sat in his seat, letting the silence stretch longer than necessary.

Eventually, he breaks it, his voice smooth but deliberate. “You know, I don’t think ignoring me is your style, Lay.”

Layla doesn’t bother to glance up from her notebook. “Let's make one thing clear. We’re strictly here for business.”

“That's rich,” Evan says with a short laugh. “You’re really going to sit there and act like there’s nothing to say? Not even a little? Doesn’t feel like you.”

She clicks her pen deliberately, the sound sharp and pointed. “I’ve moved on from wasting energy on people who don’t deserve it.”

Evan leans forward, his tone light but cutting. “Still sounds like you’ve got plenty of energy left when it comes to us.”

“Us?” She scoffed, “Evan, you can do better.”

“You know what? I think you should stop acting like 19-year-old Lay.”

Her gaze flicks up. Did he just say that?

“What do you want, Evan?”

“What I’ve always wanted,” he says softly.

“If only you’ll let me give an explanation.”

“Really?” Or what? Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “Another heartfelt note?” She gave him a pointed look, crossing her arms. “Oh, wait… You already did that last night. Can’t remember what it said, though. I do, however, remember crumpling it into a ball before it landed in the trash.”

Layla was pleased; at least now she sounds mean to him. But it doesn't change a thing.

“I never expected you to keep them anyway,” he said quietly, his tone almost tender. “I think you know exactly what it said.”

She clenched her jaw. Evan has always been good with words, but she wasn’t going to hand him that victory. Not here. Not after everything.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said sharply. “I have more things to do than waste my brain space on vague notes.”

Evan straightened, no longer leaning against the table. “ “I’ve owed you an explanation for a long time. I’m trying to give you that.”

Her instinct was to step back, to keep as much distance between them as possible, but her pride wouldn’t let her. Instead, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to hold her ground.

“We’ve been over this, Evan. I don’t need your closure anymore. I don’t want them.”

“C’mon, you still do. 'Cause why do you see me with so much hate then? I don’t want it that way.”

Layla tries speaking but holds it back.

“I’ve replayed it all, you know? The last time we...” His eyes darkened, the playfulness from before evaporating. “What I said. What I didn’t say.”

Layla’s chest tightened, and she hated the way her pulse raced. She shook her head quickly. “Don’t.”

He didn’t stop. “The way you looked at me, Layla… It still sticks with me.”

“Stop it.”

“Why won’t you let me speak?” He countered, his voice louder now but far from angry. It was pleading, raw, the kind of tone that made it impossible to completely tune him out.

“I just need two minutes to tell you the truth about what happened.”

“Because it doesn’t matter, Evan!” she shouted, the weight of her words cutting through the silence that followed. “Nothing you say is going to change anything.”

Evan ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling as though her resistance was wearing on him. “You’re lying to yourself if you believe that,” he said, his voice softer now, his gaze piercing.

Layla scoffed, shaking her head. “Gosh, you’re unbelievable.”

“I’ll stop,” Evan said suddenly, holding his hands up in surrender. “You don’t have to believe me. But can I at least say one last thing before we get back to pretending we’re nothing more than project partners?”

Layla hated the sincerity in his tone even more than his playful arrogance. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her frustration bubbling over. “If it means you’ll shut up after this, fine.”

Evan’s lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, but close. “I’m sorry, Layla. For everything. And I regret not saying this sooner.”

“Too little, too late, Evan.” She stood gathering her materials on the table. “ I guess we’ll do this some other time.” She didn't wait for his reaction.

“Does he make you happy?”

Evan’s question hit her like a sucker punch.

She froze immediately.

“What?”

“The guy with you at the gala , he spoke about you with so much confidence and possession.“ Evan stops, not knowing what next to say, his eyes flooded with tears.

Layla felt the air leave her lungs. For a long moment, she didn’t move, didn’t speak. Finally, she turned to face him, her expression icy.

“What business of yours is it?” she said flatly. “What makes you think you have a right over me?”

Evan stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. “Because I still care about you, Layla. I always have.”

Her laughter was bitter and humourless. “Don’t play that card. You’re better than this.”

“Am I?” He shot back, his voice almost challenging now. “You think you’ve got me figured out, but you have no idea—”

“I have exactly all the ideas I need,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “You’re the guy who shows up, disrupts everything, and expects the world to wait while you figure yourself out. Well, guess what? Life doesn’t work that way.”

He flinched but quickly recovered, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he said finally. “You deserve to be happy. And if he gives you that, I won’t get in the way.”

Layla’s jaw tightened at the words, but her eyes betrayed her—a fleeting, raw emotion slipping through before she could look away.

Still, she walked away.